


Claw Marks and Tail Feathers

by NimmCayn



Category: Sam and Colby, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author loves to chat in the Comments, BAMF Amanda Swearingen, BAMF Devyn Lundy, Because of Reasons, Brolby is Slightly Less Real, Depression, Dorks in Love, F/F, F/M, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Just Wait It'll Be Awesome, M/M, Panic Attacks, Separation Anxiety, Solby is Real, Solby is endgame, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Suicidal Thoughts, Ugh, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimmCayn/pseuds/NimmCayn
Summary: Sam Golbach never thought that he'd find The One™ at all. Definitely not in the middle of nowhere, huddled up behind a wooden box and scared as all hell. And he definitely didn't think that his... soulmate, I guess, would be someone as amazing or as wrong as this.Or the one where Sam realizes that true love is true love, no matter who it comes from or who you share it with.





	1. The Final Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> Wassup guys. 
> 
> I'm back at it again. Whoopdidoo. 
> 
> So as you can see, I've decided to try and single handedly build the Sam and Colby side of Ao3. But why not. They deserve it.
> 
> Anyway this is VERY loosely inspired by a fic I had the privilege of reading on Wattpad. I don't remember the name, but go try to search for it anyways. It's hella good.
> 
> This first chapter is gonna be a lot of backstory, and almost no dialogue until the end, but stick with me. It'll get better, I promise.
> 
> Anyway. This chapter is gonna be weird because I'm in an awkward position and my cat is laying on me weirdly and I'm tired. And it's effing three a.m.
> 
> Enjoy!

The world was going to end, Sam just knew it.

I mean, how could it be so damn cold in FLORIDA of all places? The damn palm trees had icicles on them, and the Spanish tiles on the tops of houses didn't look so exotic all covered with snow and ice. Disneyworld had shut down Splash Mountain because of the cold, and nobody was there at all even then.

Nah, it wasn't the end of the world. Everything was fine, except for the whole global warming thing, and the fact that winter storm what's-it's-face was the strongest in years. But if he ignored all those things, maybe he could pretend that he was in tropical Florida, not freeze your damn balls off Florida.

Sam wasn't interested in Disneyworld or Universal Studios or any of the over hyped mumbo jumbo that is girlfriend (more like friend with benefits), Kat, loved so much. He hated the commercialized bullshit they tried to sell you, cheap plastic hats that under no circumstances will it ever ever be okay to be seen in outside of Orlando, Florida, and he hated the cheap knockoff versions of the characters he had loved as a kid. He hated the rides that ended too quickly and the food that would most certainly give him diarrhea. He even hated Kat, who held his hand and bounced up and down like a kid in a candy store whenever she saw a Disney princess, shuddering in next to no clothing because Disney is some sort of torture franchise.

Is Sam a hateful person, you ask? No, don't be silly. The only problem is that, as his sister Allison used to say, he was like the Grinch in the fact that his heart was two sizes too small. Not really, of course. It would be quite harmful for Sam if it was true, which it wasn't, as Sam was a rather healthy human being. And even then, the heart does not control feelings, only where your blood goes and whether or not you get to live to see the next Grey's Anatomy episode. No, no. Sam's heart was not the problem, not really.

His wrist was.

You see, when Sam met Kat two years ago at some random ass event that his manager forced him to go to, he had automatically looked down at his wrist, sure that someone so breathtaking would definitely be his true mate, or soulmate, or meant to be, or whatever weird name the teenagers were calling them these days. But alas. The clock on his wrist, the clock that told him when he would meet his soulmate, said nothing. It would only begin to tick in the week before the big meet, and it said absolutely nothing.

But Sam couldn't pass by Kat, with her beautiful everything. His manager was pressuring him into a relationship with some bitchy makeup blogger named Sadie, who he was certain would screw his friends when given the chance, so he just went for Kat. She was pretty, funny, and sweet, but dumb as a bucket of rusty nails. She was the kind of girl who's head would've been a perfect bouncing platform for softballs back in high school. 

He learned quickly that he could never be happy with her, but the fans had already come up with a ship name: Kam. It was trending on Twitter within the first few hours after they announced that they were dating. So he was hella stuck.

They learned to get along after a while, splattering their wrists with makeup to cover their still ticking times, and smiling for the cameras. They were friendly enough, and had slept together once, but Sam had hated it to such a degree that he had refused to even kiss her since.

Not to say that she minded.

They got progressively more frustrated as time went on, because their times never started for anyone. That meant that they would not feel romantic attraction for even longer. You see, the even more frustrating thing was that most people found their true mates in their teens. Sam's parents had met when they were both ten.

There was an old myth about the God Zeus or Odin or Ra or some shit like that, in which whatever God it was somehow managed to create two headed, four legged people, but then began to fear his own creation. The God then decided that it would be a novel idea to slice them in half and condemn them to wander without their other half. But gladly, the goddess of love took pity on their poor, unfortunate souls and was kind enough to give everyone timers to when they would meet the one. That was how Sam's grandma always explained it. But then again, his grandma was batshit crazy.

Sam personally just believed that whatever God was up there was just a massive dick who liked to screw with people's lives. Screw you, Deity.

Kat screeched, tearing her gloved hand from his and running off to yet another poor unfortunate asshole forced to wear a skimpy princess costume in frigid weather. He stumbled backwards and watched Kat gush over the poor girl, who looked absolutely overwhelmed. Sam stood there for about five minutes, tweeting about how much fun he was having, hardy harr harr, before he gave up and left for the car. They had been headed to the exit anyway, so he assumed he'd just wait.

It was hailing by the time the tram stopped by the exit, a text from Kat telling him to just go ahead and leave; one of Snow White's dwarves had invited her to a party, and the moment she had accepted, her clock had begun to tick. Well that was abrupt.

Sam cursed, grabbing his backpack and lugging himself off the tram, earning a strange look from another one of the people exiting.

"My friend's clock started ticking, and mine hasn't even blipped at the age of twenty-fucking-five." Sam griped, pushing past a judgemental elderly couple, both wearing big ass Mad Hatter hats. 

How was that okay? They looked stupid as all hell.

He grimaced at all the happy ass couples climbing out of the tram with him, just after he had basically just ended a relationship. A loveless relationship, but a relationship all the same. Every race and gender was mixed together by love. It was beautiful, really, but it still left a sour taste in his mouth. There were even kids walking in front of them, their wrist clocks showing infinity signs like they did when you meet the one. These damn kids were like seven and they had it all figured out. Damnit.

Sam pushed by all the happy families and couples and out into the shitstorm that was the sky, slamming into his car, and pulling away.

Screw this. Screw love. Screw the damn clocks. Screw the entire thing. He was done trying to find someone. Life could damn well deliver love to him.

He didn't pay attention to how long he drove, or where he went; his mind captured by the fact that he was such a worthless human being that he didn't have a soulmate. There had to be something wrong with him. He had never been a bad enough person to deserve this, he was sure of it. But this proved otherwise. He hated himself more in that moment than ever before.

He didn't notice that his car had run out of gas until it literally stopped moving, and even then, it took him a few minutes to realise that he wasn't actually going anywhere.

"Fuck!" He screamed to no one in particular, pounding his fists on the dash. 

The hail was getting progressively worse, denting the roof of his car. He looked around desperately for shelter, or any sign of civilization, which he found in a distant barn. Was it really worth it to try to get to it? His question was answered by a piece of hail the size of a basketball denting the roof of his car, stopping right over his head. He was basically in a collapsing tin can.

Pulling his coat over his head (which he would later surmise was a bad idea) and ditched his car, running as fast as he could to the barn. He could feel the hail and shit hitting the coat, but thankfully nothing was able to get to him. The barn came closer and closer as he stumbled madly through the chaos. 

His hands slammed against the wooden door, pushing past the door frame and into the safety of the barn. It was an old barn, but it would do until the storm stopped and he could go get help. 

He took a few steps into the barn before a wave of nausea swept through him, his wrist burning like he had stuck it in a fire. His entire body was hot now, and he ripped off his clothing desperately trying to get relief. His bare chest felt nothing in the cold of the winter, his torn skinny jeans doing plenty to keep him warm. He didn't take them off; no, he was not going to be caught trespassing naked in some stranger's barn. 

He clawed at his wrist, wondering if he was dying from his lack of a soulmate. He struggled to see through blurry, sweat clogged eyes, squinting down at his clock.

Counting: 1 min remaining.

Sam's blood ran cold. Was this actually happening? Was he really going to meet his soulmate, after all these years of searching? But... why here? Who would be out here in the middle of nowhere? Oh, he hoped his soulmate wasn't a serial killer. He let his mind wander for a moment before jerking back to reality. What if he was not his soulmate's soulmate? 

He had seen it before, in high school. His best friend Jackson had killed himself after his soulmate rejected him for her soulmate, a jock named Thom. He had seen it in movies and tv shows and plays and a hell of a lot of soap operas. 

He looked down at his wrist again.

Counting: 30 seconds remaining.

Oh holy fucking shit. He was going to meet his soulmate. Maybe he wasn't so worthless after all? He smoothed out his hair, hoping to look somewhat presentable for whatever guy or gal ended up being his.

His? That sounded like slavery. But he liked the sound of it. He had never called anyone his before, much less wanted to. 

His wrist numbers turned red, counting down the final seconds before his life would happen.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

Infinity...

Sam looked around the large room, seeing no one. His heart dropped to his stomach, looking back at his wrist. Still infinity. But no one. Was this a sign that he was meant to be alone forever?

Moments passed and he considered running into the hail, but as he turned towards the door, he heard a soft crying. A wail in the darkness behind one of the large crates, someone terrified for their life.

An invisible force led Sam toward the voice, and he knew. This was it. He was about to meet his soulmate.

"Hello?"


	2. Infinity Times Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam discovers that his soulmate is not who he would have expected at all, and battles feelings within himself that have been part of him since childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, quick thingies I need to note.
> 
> Originally, this was going to be a fic with Colby as a catboy, but I came to the conclusion that that would be better served in a different fic. 
> 
> Also, this chapter MAY be triggering to some. Nothing graphic in the slightest, but I don't want to be reason someone has a panic attack. Basically someone looks pretty beat up and is scared. Sorry, I don't know much about triggers. I know what triggers me, but other than that, nothing.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hello?"

His voice was responded to by a quick intake of breath from whoever was hidden behind the crate, and the sound of the person beginning to breathe harder. 

"Please, go away..."

The words were whispered so lightly that Sam almost didn't hear them, but when he did, he could feel his heart break slightly. Why was the person so afraid? And why does the person sound so much like... a man?

He hoped to God that his soulmate wasn't a man; he was not gay, and he never had been. It would be impossible for him to love his soulmate if they were a man. Maybe they just had a deep voice for a woman?

"I'm not going to hurt you." Sam called out, trying to inch his way around the big ass crate. What the hell was it even for, anyway?

A shuffle sounded from behind the crate, hinting that the person was inching away from Sam and his voice. "Bullshit."

A chuckle forced its way through Sam's lips. His soulmate was a firecracker all right. It made him smile that he would be with someone so strong willed.

"Why do you think I would hurt you?" Sam called out, "Are you hurt right now? I mean, should I call the police for you? I could run and get help..."

A laugh sounded from the person's hiding spot, but this laugh was not easygoing chuckle, it was a spiteful chortle that left Sam's skin tickling with the force of the hate in the room. "Everybody fucking hurts me, and yeah, I'm hurt right now. So what? Why the fuck would you care?"

Sam stuck his wrist into the darkness, hoping that the person could see his wrist. "I care because you're my soulmate."

The sound of a gasp sounded then, and Sam felt his wrist being yanked back and studied. There was along moment in which he was sure he was not going to be getting his arm back, but then he was released. Multiple seconds passed and Sam began to worry, but then the person spoke again.

"If I come out, will you leave me alone?"

Sam nodded vigorously, but then realized they couldn't see him. "Y-yes!" He almost shouted the words, but held himself back. "Please, I just want to meet you. Like officially meet you."

"Move back. I'm not coming out unless you give me space."

He stood there for a moment before blindly obeying, not taking his eyes off of the crate. His breathing stopped almost completely, holding his breath as he waited to see the person that he was supposed to live the rest of his life with.

Sam had always imagined the day he met his soulmate, what they would look and be like, what they would say, what he would say. But nothing he had ever imagined could ever live up to what he saw and felt as his true one, his soulmate, stepped from behind the crate.

His soulmate was a man and he was fucking gorgeous. His hair was dark, swept to the side in a chaos bedhead, his eyes blue as fucking blue could be. He was perfect, and Sam hated himself for thinking that way, but as his eyes continued to rake over the boy's figure, he realized that something was very wrong. The boy's lips were cracked and bleeding, his slightly muscular arms littered with deep cuts and dark bruises. He wore torn clothing, his feet bare in the freezing cold. He was shivering, his nose almost blue from frostbite. One of his ribs was most definitely broken, protruding out of a rip in his shirt, and he was emaciated.

"Why are you shirtless?" 

Sam shook his head, the fog of his thoughts lifting and the cold hitting him like a cargo bag full of bricks. How the hell had he been so hot only moments before?

"Shit, shit, shit. Fuck." He scrambled to pull his shirt and sweatshirt back on, feeling certain areas of his body get quite a bit smaller. "I was really hot a second ago, but here."

He held his winter coat out to the boy, who stared at it. The boy looked up between Sam and the coat, disbelieving. 

"But... that's your coat. It's freezing, you'll freeze."

Sam raised his eyebrows, his heart warming at the fact that the boy already cared about him. Maybe the whole being a guy thing didn't matter... no! He couldn't think that way; he couldn't. He couldn't.... could he?

"You'll freeze first, and besides, you need to keep warm while we get to my car. When we're there, you can tell me what happened to you."

The boy accepted the coat hesitantly, but shook his head. "I'm not going with you."

"Why not?" Sam asked him, rubbing his hands together and taking notice of the many containers of gas by the wall. "My car is warm, and we can get you the medical help you need. I mean come on." He gestured at the boy's chest. "I'm pretty sure your bones are not supposed to be visible, out of the skin or inside the skin. When is the last time you ate?"

The boy shuffled his feet, making a line in the dirt with his toe. "Last month, I think."

Sam's eyes widened in horror. "You THINK? If you come with me, I'll get you food, water, some new clothes, and again, medicine for that rib."

"I'm not going with you. You basically just told me there's candy in your van, and I'm not biting. Besides, I don't even know your name."

Shit. That was right. Sam had been so caught up with trying to help that he had forgotten to introduce himself. He stuck his hand out to shake.

"I'm Sam. Sam Golbach."

The boy didn't take his hand, but nodded, huddling deeper inside the coat Sam had given him, which was way big for him. He was effing adorable.

"I'm Colby."

Colby. Sam loved it; it was perfect. A perfect name for a perfect boy. Colby and Sam. Sam and Colby. The names made perfect sense together. They made perfect sense together.

"But I'm still not coming with you."

Sam sighed, rubbing the infinity sign in his wrist. "Am I not your soulmate too? Because if I'm not, I can just drop you off at the hospital and we can never see each other again, if that's what you want. I just want to help."

Colby scratched his wrist, looking a bit lost. "I don't have a soulmate. I'm twenty and it's taking a long fucking time."

Sam frowned. "Just... look at your wrist. Tell me what it says."

Please let it say infinity. Please, whatever God is up there, please.

Colby muttered to himself, pulling his sleeve back and peering at his wrist before gasping and looking up at Sam. He turned his wrist so that Sam could see, showing an infinity sign stamped across his wrist, just like Sam's.

"You're my..."

"Soulmate." Sam finished, a broad smile on his face. 

Colby looked up at him with wide eyes, his mouth in a perfect 'O'. Sam held his hand out, gesturing for him to take it, which he did. The two stood across from each other, electricity coursing through their veins at the touch.

"Come with me." Sam pleaded, coming closer to Colby, who he could tell was fighting the urge to back away. "I promise I won't hurt you. I can give you a home. I can give you love."

Colby ran a hand through his dirty hair, biting his lip. "Bring me to the hospital please." He whispered, "And then maybe. Maybe I'll trust you."

It hurt Sam deeply that Colby didn't trust him, but without knowing what had happened to the younger boy, he had no reason to to take it personally. He would do anything for this boy to trust him, to love Sam as much as he already loved him.

"Okay." He agreed, grabbing a can of gas. "Let's go."

Colby ducked his head and followed him out the door and into the field, where ice no longer fell. Maybe it was a sign from the heavens, or some sort of omen that things were going to get better for the both of them. Whatever it meant, Sam knew that his life was never going to be the same.

And he didn't mind it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked. I hate it when people ask for kudos, so I'm not going to do that, but I WILL heavily imply the fact that I would appreciate it greatly.
> 
> Bye now,  
> Nimm


	3. Hospital Blues- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns a thing or two about Colby and grapples once more with feelings that he doesn't know whether he can control or not.
> 
> Note: This section can be skipped. It's two in the morning right now, so there will be a part two later on today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This can be skipped if you want, as this is not necessary for the story to flow. I will be posting part two later on.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSION OF RAPE AND TORTURE
> 
> There's also some grammatical errors that it won't let me correct for some reason. Idk. Sorry about that, grammar Nazis.

Sam wasn’t a hateful person, not in the slightest. Sure, there were things he didn’t like, but all in all, he was generally a happy go lucky man. But if you were to compile a list of all the things Sam hated, it would be a medium-sized list, as everyone hates something, and hospitals could quite possibly be number one or two on said list.

There were many reasons for this; such as the fact that Sam's grandma had wasted away in the drab interior of one back in Kansas, or that the jello always made him sick, or even that he thought the nurses looked like they were about to murder you and your entire family. There were little things that he didn’t like, such as the smell, or the lack of windows, or the handwriting of the doctors. To be honest, nobody likes hospitals, and if anyone were to tell Sam that they did, he would not trust them in the slightest. Who could ever like a place full of death and sickness? But as Sam sat in the waiting room of Joan of Arc Central Hospital, he didn’t think that it was smelly, or that the nurses looked all that threatening at all, but that the hospital was rather comforting; after all, the doctors here were helping his soulmate.

Shit, that sounded weird. Soulmate. He wondered if his family would still love him when they learned that Colby was a man. They probably wouldn't. He wondered if Colby himself would love him even though he was a man. Was Colby even gay? Sam had never thought he himself was gay, but he supposed that the universe had other plans for him.

“Sam?”

He looked up, seeing a young nurse with short red hair standing over him; Amanda, a friend of his. A worried smile played across her lips. Oh shit, what was she worried about? Was Colby okay?  
“Is… is he okay?”

She bit her lip, flipping through the pages clipped to her clipboard. “Define okay.” There were a few beats of silence before Amanda cleared her throat. “Do you want me to tell you the gist of it before you go back to see him?”

Sam nodded. “I just want to know what I’m getting into.” He told her. “I don’t want to charge into this with no idea who he is or what he’s been through.”

Amanda smiled. “You’re sweet that way, Sam. That’s why Elton and I like you so much.” She flipped through a few more pages. “About the whole ‘who he is’ thing, nobody but him will be able to tell you that. He didn’t have an ID or any form of identification on him, and when we ask for his name, he just says ‘Colby’. When we ask for his last name too, he just looks confused and asks for you.”

A surge of pride shot through Sam’s chest. “He asked for me?”

“Yeah, he keeps saying you can tell us his last name?”

Sam shook his head. “I have no idea what his last name is.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “O-kay then. Moving on. His physical health is shit, which you already know. Three broken ribs, a sprained ankle, multiple fractures in his skull, four scattered broken fingers, two broken bones in his feet, then there’s the other shit.”

“The other shit?”

Amanda cringed, crouching down and placing her hand on his knee. “This is going to be really hard to hear, but I need you to keep your cool.”

Sam gulped, but nodded. “I can do that. What is the other shit?”

“Whipping scars, burn marks, knife wounds, missing skin and fingernails, you name it. He probably has it. He’s been through a lot.”

There was a pause as both of them said nothing; Sam trying to understand and Amanda giving him time to do so. Sam said nothing, burying his face in his hands. 

“He was tortured, Sam.”

You know how in the movies, when a character gets into a car accident or something of the like, and the sound is drowned out by a horrible ringing? Sam could suddenly understand that noise as he was hearing it then, as he covered his mouth and stood up, hastily throwing the magazine he had never opened back to the table beside his chair. 

“No. That’s… that’s not right. That can't be right.”

He took a step forward, but found that his legs didn’t want him to move, so he leant against the wall, running his hand over his face. He refused to look at Amanda when she circled around to his front. He ignored her when she said his name, his blood pounding in his ears. How could he ever hope to gain Colby’s trust if this was what he had gone through? How could Colby ever live life with him if he was scarred?

“Sam!” A sharp sting shot across his face as Amanda slapped him. He brought his hand to his festering lip, shooting her an offended look. 

“If that’s how you react to that, then you are going to fucking die in about a minute.” Amanda grumbled, “So gird your loins, motherfucker, and listen up, because right now, he’s being strong all on his own and if you can't be strong with him, then who will?”

Sam turned back towards her, rubbing his face like a chastised child. Tears had started to brew in his eyes, but he would not let them fall. Someone could see, someone could take a picture, someone could see.

Amanda glared at him. “Can you listen?”

Sam tucked his hands into his armpits and sulked, but he nodded, his mind still circling around the fact that his soulmate, the beautiful boy that he had assumed had simply been in a car accident, had been tortured.

“Not only were there scars on his skin, there was also a helluva lot of scar tissue in certain places, such as his… erm… privates.” 

Sam stared blankly at her. “And that means?”

Amanda looked at him for a moment before throwing her hands up in the air in saddened frustration. Her movements were jerky and she looked as if she were about to cry.  
“Fuck it. It means that someone repeatedly raped him, you shithead.” She stage-shouted, gesturing wildly. “I was going to sugarcoat it a bit, maybe ease you in there, but I think you’ve had enough babying for today. He was raped, and you know what?” She didn’t wait for him to guess. “He says he’s twenty. The scar tissue is up to five years old. Some of it is as new as a month. He was fifteen fucking years old the first time someone...” Her voice trailed off as she choked back tears at the thought of what Colby had been through.

Sam choked on the tears that had begun to fall, the floor swaying under his feet. “You mean-”

Amanda interrupted him. “I mean that you have one emotionally and physically fucked up soulmate. I mean that if you want to be part of his life, then you better get your ass into his room within the next five minutes, because he’s scared as hell and I’m pretty damn sure that he either doesn’t have a family or wishes that he doesn’t.”

Sam wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “I… uh… I don’t know what to say. What do I say?”

Amanda had already made her way to the hallway when she heard this and turned around. “You say, ‘Hi Colby. I’m your soulmate, Sam. Nice to officially meet you.’ Are you seriously asking me? I don’t know!” She stomped up to Sam and grabbed him by the shoulders. “He isn’t my soulmate, Sam. This is your rodeo.”

Sam couldn’t imagine, if this was his rodeo, how he was going to even attempt to keep ahold of this bull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you guys think. I mean, this chapter is pointless, but other chapters could use some feedback.  
> If you guys have questions about me or the story or anything else, feel free to ask!
> 
> Chao,  
> Nimm


	4. Update- Not actually a chapter

Hey, guys! I'm not going to be able to update again today, as it has taken a very strange and stressful turn. I will, however, update tomorrow, if all goes well.   
I hope y'all understand and I also hope you guys will come back and continue reading. It means a lot to me that people are responding positively to this.

XO,  
Nimm


	5. Hospital Blues- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Colby have a conversation that confuses the hell out of everyone involved, Sam realizes that Dateline itself is knocking on his front door, and Colby makes a resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I don't like to be that fic writer that never follows through, but my work wouldn't upload so I eventually gave up. But here we are! Again, so sorry it took that long. As a consolation prize, I put a little paragraph or three from Colby's point of view in there.  
> Please stick with me and enjoy!

As Sam walked through the doors of Colby’s room, Amanda’s parting words lingered in his mind.

“Remember, Sam. Birds in cages think flying is an illness.”

His brain couldn’t let him forget about those words. Colby was a bird in a cage, he knew it. The boy’s wrists were raw with rope burns and he was so pale that even though Colby himself could not tell the doctors how long he had been captive, they surmised that he had not come in contact with the sun in upwards of two months, and that he could have possibly been wherever it was longer than that.

No one knew how he had gotten to the barn.

Colby sat on the bed, staring at the word outside his small window, his good fingers playing with the hem of his pant leg. He was clean now, as he had made use of the shower in the adjoined bathroom. Amanda had offered to help him, but he declined, and as the nurse had said; he was a victim of sexual abuse. No one was going to force anything like that on him here.

Sam took notice of how truly beautiful Colby was now that his soulmate was clean and bandaged. The man’s eyes were like the stars, and Sam knew he could never deserve them to look at him with love, but he would try as hard as he could.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice was rough; he didn’t really know why.

Colby looked back at him, and Sam found no emotion in his face. The man smiled a mirthless and slightly scared, but still gorgeous smile at him. “Hi.” Was all he said.

Sam took his silence as a sort of invitation and stepped further into the room. He shuffled his feet as Colby turned a bit towards him. He wanted so badly to sit next to his soulmate, to hold his hand, but he knew that he would probably not be welcome.

“I just came to… uh… see how you were doing.”

Colby nodded, not able to keep his eyes on Sam’s. He was afraid. “I’m fine.”

Sam decided to just screw it all and so he sat on the edge of Colby’s hospital bed, at the end so not to be intimidating, but Colby still tucked his feet under his body and inched away from him as if he had leprosy. 

“Okay.” Sam said, disappointed at the boy’s reaction to him. “Can I ask you a question? A few questions actually.”

Colby nodded and Sam could tell he was unsure, but he and the authorities needed answers. He clasped his hands on his lap and smiled to try and reassure the boy that everything was okay.

“So, nobody really knows your name. Can you tell me what it is?”

A look of confusion shot across Colby’s face. “I told you at the barn that my name is Colby.” 

“No, I mean, what is your last name? The nurse, Amanda, told me that you say that I know it. I don’t. Can you please fill me in?”

Colby bit his lip. “My last name is whatever your last name is.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. What in all hell? He could tell that Colby was serious; the boy was always serious. Sam loved the thought of sharing a last name with him; Colby Golbach sounded perfect, but…  
“Why do you say that?” Sam questioned, leaning forward. 

Colby’s eyes dilated in fear and Sam cursed himself for something he had no idea he had done. What could possibly have made Colby afraid? The younger boy shifted on the bed, the sheets bunching up as he grasped at them. “Well, um… you are my soulmate. Right? So… wouldn’t we share a last name?”

Sam smiled at that. “Maybe someday, if you want. But right now, I need to know what your last name is.” Colby cocked his head in confusion. “Like, the last name your family has.” His eyes were blank. “Like your parents or legal guardians’ last name?”

Colby’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, Cessair.”

Sam frowned. “Is that your name? Colby Cessair?” He hated the name, hated the way it sounded on both of their tongues. Colby Golbach sounded much better.

There was a hesitance in Colby’s eyes, but he nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Yes.” He nodded, “That’s my name.”

Sam reached forward and grabbed Colby’s hand before he could hide it again. The boy looked shocked, and maybe a bit scared, but he made no move to pull away. “Where are you from?” Sam asked, pulling himself a bit closer. 

Colby shook his head. “I don’t really know. Kansas, maybe. I think.” The uncertainty in his eyes was so prevalent that Sam could tell it was drowning him.

“You don’t know where you’re from?” Colby shook his head. Something clicked in Sam’s mind. “You probably don’t remember your family, right?”

There it was; the hesitancy in his eyes again. Sam couldn’t understand why it was there. “No.” Colby ducked his head. “The bad men didn’t want me to remember them.”  
Now they were getting somewhere.

“The bad men? Who are they?”

Colby fidgeted, moving around on the bed and ending up closer to Sam then he had been before. “The men that took me away from my home.” Tears started to brew in the boy’s eyes and he buried his face in his hands. “They don’t like it when I tell.” 

“When you tell what?” Sam gripped Colby’s hands tighter. 

Sam could see the exact moment when something inside of Colby broke, and the tears started flowing harder. “I-I can't.” The boy cowered against the scratchy hospital pillows, and someone who had seemed so strong before now seemed so broken. Sam had seen the fractures, but now he could tell that Colby had shattered. 

But just because someone is shattered doesn’t mean that they will never be put back together again.

Sam pulled Colby closer to his chest and the boy buried his head into Sam’s chest. They sat like that for hours, both of them crying under the pressure of the things that they could not understand. The silence was broken by Sam’s voice in the dusk, begging for an answer even though nothing Colby had said had made sense.

“Come home with me.” He whispered into the boy’s hair. The darkness and melancholy wrapped around them like a cloak, and Colby said nothing. “I know you don’t know me, but I swear I can protect you. I swear no one will ever hurt you the way they hurt you again.”

The silence nearly slaughtered him. “I don’t trust you. It isn't really my choice after all. I don't have anywhere else to go."

Sam sighed, but nodded. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a yes.  
……………

Colby rested his head against the window of the moving car. Sam’s car. The past day was a blur in his mind, and through the chaos, he hadn’t really gotten a chance to adjust to the sunlight.  
It was… bright. Brighter than he remembered. The last time he had been allowed to see the sun for this long was when he was eleven. He had done well by pleasing a group of older male businessmen and so his masters let him sit by the window of the grey van they drove. 

He had cried. He wasn’t allowed to cry. He had cried at the hospital with Sam, but the older man didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed pleased. Maybe that was his kink? Colby glanced over at Sam, whose hands were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles had gone white. He prided himself on being able to figure out people’s kinks and fantasies. How to bring them pleasure. How to make them happy.

He would make Sam happy, he had to. His masters… erm, ex masters… had told him that they would hurt him if he didn’t. They had told him to be good.  
And good is what he would be. He swore it. No going back to the Dark Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll should look up the definition of Cessair. And yes, I know his last name is Brock. A hot name for a even hotter man. I'll elaborate on that later.  
> I hope ya'll enjoyed! See ya next week!


	6. Playing Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A detective by the name of Shea Elyse fills in the blanks of Colby's story and finds that this is way more personal to her than she thought, and that Colby is in deeper than any one of them could've imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add Shea into this, because she's sweet and I like her. Practically everybody that has ever breathed in Colby's presence is going to be in this story.  
> I also wanted to apologize for my shitty uploading skills. I'm trying at least!

The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all.

That was a reality that Shea Elyse knew well. She had been a detective in Orange County for three years, but had worked there for five. Five years that had been normal, at least at the beginning. In the beginning, when she just a deputy, she’d bust a druggie out by the back dumpster of a bar or a petty thief stealing merchandise from a cheesy tourist stop. Nothing all that exciting; it was better than the stay at home mother thing that her ex-husband had all but forced onto her. 

She liked it; it was a chaotic kind of peaceful, but as the job wore on, and she ended up as a detective in LA, she was saddled with a murder case. Nora Brownlock, only thirty-four years old when she died; a loving mother and wife, and a talented violinist. She was beloved by all who beheld her, and she was silenced by Rory Parkinson, an unassuming soccer coach from a few towns over. Rory just snapped one day; maybe tired of his cheating wife’s heated words or his children’s screaming, and Nora just happened to be pumping gas at the same station. Rory had a van full of teenagers, all of whom witnessed their friend Holden’s dad stroll on up to some random lady with a green Prius and a baby in the back seat and just… bashed her head in during broad daylight. Then he calmly got back in the car and drove over state lines, therefore kidnapping all ten boys. He jumped off a bridge to avoid capture.

Shea had been tasked with finding them, and she did. But not before two of the boys, Kenneth Vandermeer and Wilder Holverson, attempted to fight back and ended up dead on the side of the road. It wasn’t absolutely Shea’s fault, but if she would’ve taken her job as seriously as she had taken the alcohol she consumed during the first day of the investigation, the most important day, maybe Wilder and Kenneth would be alive to see their graduation.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake on this case. 

A kid by the name of Colby was found by a man by the name of Sam Golbach, who turned out to be his soulmate, in a broken-down barn. Colby was covered in an unimaginable number of wounds, and there was evidence of sexual abuse.

Shea winced, reclining back in her chair with the file in her hand. Nobody should have to go through that; not men, women, or anything in between. It was a subject often ignored, but Shea was not going to do that.

Her eyes hit the paper again, bleary from her lack of sleep. It was two in the morning where she was, and her coffee machine was broken. Aka, she was living in hell. She tried to make sense of the few bits of paperwork that they had gotten off of this Colby kid. Nothing he said made any sense to even the best detectives and phycologists in their fields. She’d called almost forgotten colleagues and cashed in almost forgotten favors as her completely forgotten croissant sat cold on her desk atop a stack of medical reports of Colby’s. None of them could make sense of the case, and most of them told her to drop it while she still could; so that her reputation wouldn’t take a blow when she couldn’t figure it out. She refused; she was not going to give up and allow another boy to get hurt. 

She flipped through her notes and sized them up to the official reports, marking down the things that she had missed. In the end, she decided to read the biggest points again.

He said his name was Colby Cessair, but the police and Shea both agreed that his last name was not Cessair. He said he was twenty years old, but there was no one with the last name Cessair that gave birth to a baby boy that had been reported missing anywhere near the time Colby would have had to be born. But still, the name Cessair rung a bell, but she couldn’t figure out why.

Shea pulled the photos of Colby’s wounds from under her croissant, the stale bread thwump thwumping against the plate. She nearly got a paper cut as she opened to the problem picture; a tattoo on the boy’s lower back. Almost like a tramp stamp. It was a simple black circle, with a red diamond piercing through behind it. It was so fucking familiar, and she knew it. Shea knew that she knew it.

Suddenly, as a lightbulb went off in her mind, she lunged for a dusty file on top of her filing cabinet. She opened it hastily, leaning up against her desk. The first page answered every question she had, and as she flipped through the file, tears formed in her eyes. 

She understood now. She looked up at the clock. Exactly two days since the boy had been found. Not a short enough time, but as she looked at the identical brand left on little baby Cole Brock’s nursery door the day he disapeared, twenty years ago, she didn’t care about that

She had just found out the boy’s identity.

The hours wore on and she pored over the brand on the wall and in his skin and then pored over the name Cessair, which belonged to the suspect of the kidnapping: Damon Cessair. Damon Cessair was a petty thief, a con man, a drug dealer, a killer, and a rapist who had escaped from a high security prison with the help of a guard whom he somehow turned to the dark side: Harvey Willows. The two were suspect in multiple murders, rapes, and tortures. They burnt everything in their path, and destroyed all that they touched.

But what did they need with Colby, and what was the meaning of the brand?

A ding sounded from her computer and she looked up. Her computer system had picked up a flaw in the design of Willows’ ID; the watermark was missing. She dug deeper, tracing his face down rabbit hole after rabbit hole until she found a real match. Harvey Cane. He had a record, but only two horrible charges.

Sex trafficking and kidnapping.

The pieces clicked together in Shea’s head. The brand, the shared last name, the scars, the remote drop location. It all made sense now.

Colby Cessair, or Colby Brock, was a victim of sex trafficking. She had known it somewhat, but had always hoped that it was just a simple kidnap and rape case, but this was so much worse, not to discount the first. 

Something caught her eye; a link, a partner in crime link. She followed it and a toxically familiar face filled the screen. Bile rose in Shea’s throat. The database said his name was Gerry Jeffrey, but she knew. She knew his name was Rory Parkinson. He and his friends had been released because of the lack of evidence a year before.

Suddenly, this was personal. Suddenly, she was fighting for Colby as if he were her brother. She was not about to let another boy die at that sick bastard’s hands. Rory Parkinson, Damon Cessair, and Harvey Cane were going to go the hell down.

She grabbed her phone and dialed the soulmate’s number. It rang, rang, and rang until a very tired voice answered, car white noise in the background. “Hello?”

Shea stared at the evidence that had just exploded into life in front of her. “Is this Sam Golbach, Colby Doe’s soulmate contact?”

There was a pause, a whimper from somewhere away from the phone, and then an intake of breath. “Yeah, this is him. What’s this about?”

Shea smiled a regretful, pained smile. “I have news about your soulmate, Mr. Golbach. When you get back to LA, I’d suggest a meeting.” Nothing was said for a few moments. “You should probably brace yourself. This is going to get a bit ugly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying guys. Hope you like it!


	7. Tell the World I'm Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colby is introduced to the roommates and their dogs and Corey gets his ass handed to him shortly after. Sam handles some fear, and Devyn is awesome at crisis management.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M'kay, sorry about the late upload. Also, I'm almost to a hundred views! I don't know how hits work, so it could be the same few people over and over again, but I'm still happy.
> 
> I have a question. You guys don't need to worry about seeing a scene like this for a long time, but if you want it I'm going to have to be prepared. Do we WANT smut or do we NOT want smut? Let me know in the comments. If so, I'll have to do research because not only have I never had a sexual experience, I'm also asexual. So I would definitely not know. Again, don't expect a smut scene for a while, but please do voice your opinion on the matter. 
> 
> Also, do you guys want a special Valentine's day one (or two) shot? If so, tell me. I have an idea. (Hint, hint: Engagement fic!)
> 
> Anyhow, please enjoy this chapter. Next one will be posted next Wednesday.

Sam rubbed his hand over his tired face as he finally, finally, after three days of silent traveling and sleeping in the car, pulled into the driveway of the mansion he shared with his roommates. He looked over with tired eyes at Colby, tucked up against the opposite side of the car, dead asleep. He hadn’t said anything but occasional yes’s or no’s to Sam’s concerned hey, are you okay’s and are you hungry’s. 

It broke Sam’s cold heart every time Colby whimpered when the car hit a bump or the radio got too loud. His nails were bitten raw by the time they parked in Sam’s spot in the sort of parking lot in front of the house, and he started and began to tremble as Sam woke him up. He pushed himself up against the door, terrified, like their moment at the hospital had never happened. His eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t really in the car, but in some distant battlefield reliving whatever shit life that detective needed to tell him at their meeting.

Two o’clock tomorrow. That was when he’d maybe get some closure about what happened to Colby and maybe, just maybe, get a few steps closer to putting the bastards that did this to him behind bars. It was ironic to him that Shea Elyse, a stranger, could give closure, but Colby, the victim, could not.

His hand rested on Colby’s shoulder, rubbing circles into his back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

Colby looked to him, shuddering breaths slowly evening until he was breathing normally. “W-where are we?” He asked, pulling himself up to look around anxiously.

Sam leaned back, taking in the sight of familiarity. “We’re home.”

Colby bit his lip. “Who do the other cars belong to? Your butlers?”

Sam laughed, throwing his head back. “No, they belong to my roommates. Don’t worry, I won't let them hurt you.” He said at Colby’s scared expression.

“I don’t like them.”

“You’ve never met them, Colbear.”

Colby smiled slightly at the nickname, which Sam took to be a good sign. His fingers rested on the door handle and he looked over at Sam.

“Can you tell me about them before we get in, so I’ll be prepared?”

Sam nodded, taking Colby’s trembling hand in his. “There’s Corey. He’s a dancer and he has this stupid manbun; it’s kinda his trademark thing. He has a YouTube channel like I do, everyone in this house does, but he doesn’t really do a set type of thing on there. Then there’s Devyn. She’s great. She’s a makeup-artist with a joint YouTube account with Corey, who’s her boyfriend by the way. I think you’ll really like her.”

“Please tell me that’s all.”

Sam winced. “Yeah, not gonna happen. After that, there’s Aaron. He practically only eats eggs and hot sauce, and he has an adorable, albeit yippy dog named Buddy that he loves more than his own mother.” 

He waited for Colby to nod, which he did. There was apprehension in his eyes, but he was listening. His eyes kept drifting to the front door of the house, as if expecting the roommates to come bursting through the door at any moment.

“The last is Jake. He was actually my ticket to fame. We lived in Kansas near each other, and when I was just a baby Viner, he did a bunch of collabs with me. He’s… interesting to say the least; a bit bitter because I grew to a larger fame than him after Vine, which is a video platform by the way, shut down. He’s cool though.”

“Is that all?” Colby asked, his voice quiet, unsure. 

Sam grunted an affirmative. “Some people that don’t live here will hang out here sometimes. Jake has a girlfriend named Gabby, but she’s only here when she can get time to leave Kansas. There’s a few of Corey’s friends that hang around sometimes, but they’re pretty lowkey. After them, there’s Elton. He used to live here, but then he decided that since he went to college and was a bit older, he’s too good for us, so he moved out to live with Amanda, his girlfriend. You remember Amanda, right?”

Colby smiled the smallest smile. “Yeah, she was the nice nurse at the hospital, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. Scotty shows up sometimes, with Liza, David, a different Gabbie, and a few others. They’re all nice, if not a little overwhelming. But you shouldn’t have to worry about them.”

“O-kay…” Colby looked unsurely at the house.

“It won't do you any good to wait, you know.” Sam told him, “There’s nowhere else we can go. Unless you want to go to Kansas, but then you’ll have to deal with my brother Ben, and that’s a whole ‘nother thing.”

Colby made eye contact for the first time since the hospital. “Can you… hold my hand?” He asked, ducking his head and breaking the contact. “I’d feel much better.”

Sam’s heart skipped an entire set of beats, and while he remained composed on the outside, he was mentally shooting off firecrackers and hollering. His hand brushed against Colby’s cheek, and unfortunately, the boy shied away, but Sam didn’t mind; he was caught on Colby’s request.

“I’d love to.”

He got out of the car and went over to open the door for Colby, who was in the process of getting out. Electricity crackled between them as Sam took Colby’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.” He assured the broken boy. 

Before they so much as got up the stairs, the doors burst open and a tall man with a manbun, Corey, strode out. Behind him, three others stood hesitantly in the doorway; Sam knew them by their faces, but he knew Colby did not. This was probably stressful for the poor thing.

“What’s up, Sam’s soulmate?” Corey hollered, and before Sam could stop him or Colby could say anything, he wrapped his arms around Colby’s smaller frame. “Welcome to the family!”

Sam froze as Colby stiffened, and he could hear his breathing hitch. Corey didn’t notice, of course, as he backed away from the hug. Colby was as white as a sheet, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Sam didn’t have time to register it before he was stepping in between the two and, well, he’d be lying if he recounted the story by saying that he did anything other than growl like a damn wolf.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch him, Cor.” Sam snarled, pushing Corey back. “You know I fucking told you he’d be scared.”

Corey’s eyes widened, his hands up in the air. “Shit, Sam. I didn’t think you were that serious.” He looked over Sam’s shoulder at Colby, who had regained some of his color and was now watching the two anxiously. “I’m sorry, brother. No harm, no fowl?”

Sam turned to look at Colby, smiling slightly. He hoped this wouldn’t color Colby’s opinion of him or make him not want to live there, and if it did, he was going to cut Corey’s nuts off. Oh hell, he hoped this wouldn’t change anything.

Colby looked both surprised and shaken. “You’re… sorry?”

Corey looked down at Sam and then at Colby, obviously confused as hell. Inside his own mind, Sam hoped to goodness that Corey wasn’t going to say something stupid. He wouldn’t really be surprised though.  
“Uh, yeah. I scared you, so I’m sorry.” Corey shot a what the hell, Sam look in the blonde’s direction. “Did I do something wrong again?”

Seconds passed, and there was no response as Colby just stood and stared, seemingly dumbfounded. Nothing was said for almost a minute before Corey spoke. 

“Dude… uh... don’t wanna, you know… hurt your feelings or anything, but you’re creeping me right the hell out and I don’t want our relationship to be colored by the fact that the first time I met you, you scared me so much I peed my pants.”

Shaking his head, Colby stepped forward and grasped Corey’s hand in his. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Corey raised an eyebrow at Colby’s gesture, but nodded. “Uh, yeah, bud. Same.” He grasped Colby’s hand back and made the almost begging, submissive gesture into a handshake. “Anyway… the others are over here.”

Colby stepped backwards, wrapping his arms around himself, and Sam stepped towards him and hooked an arm around his shoulder. 

“This is Aaron.” He told him, pointing towards a man with dirty blonde hair and kind eyes. “That’s Jake.” He pointed towards a boy with strangely dyed hair and a mischievous smile. “You already met Corey... unfortunately. And that’s Devyn.”

The last was a beautiful girl with a faint line of sparkles along her cheekbone. Upon hearing her name, she stepped forward and smiled at Colby. Sam could tell that she was making herself smaller, as if she knew. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did; she and Amanda were good friends. 

“Hi, Colby. Sam told Corey and I so much about you.” Her voice was a soothing one, sweet and melodic. Sam had spent many a anxiety attack listening to her singing him songs. “I’m so looking forward to getting to know you! Do you want me to bring you to meet the dogs too?”

Colby smiled the largest smile Sam had seen from him yet and nodded; apparently, he liked dogs. Sam filed that away in his mind. If dogs made Colby happy, then he was going to get a fucking dog. The best dog. Sam was going to breed that motherfucker with a fucking lion. He tried to calm himself, but all he could think is that yes! Something makes his soulmate happy.

“That sounds nice, Miss Devyn.” Colby whispered, before looking up at Sam. “Um… i-is that okay?”

“Of course! Go meet Buddy and Navi. I’ll stay out here and get my stuff out of the trunk.” 

Colby smiled again and broke away from Sam’s embrace to follow Devyn into the house, listening intently as the girl told him about Circa, and how she wasn’t there anymore, but he’d still get to meet her at some point. He let himself feel peace for a few moments as Aaron and Jake followed them in, talking about what to make for dinner and whether or not they should pull another prank on David Dobrik for more views. 

Things were good, things were good, things were good… the door was shut. Things were not fucking good. He spun on Corey, who was making his way to the door, and fisted his hands in the front of his shirt, slamming the larger man against one of the cars with superhuman force. 

“You ever fucking touch him again, I will cut your fucking man bun off and wear it like a medal. Got it?”

Corey struggled for a minute before putting his hands up in surrender. He was confused, Sam could tell that he was, but to be completely honest, he couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about that. All that mattered to him was Colby being happy and feeling safe.

“Fine!” Corey cried as Sam slammed him back again. “What the hell is your problem? What’s HIS problem?”

Sam looked back at the closed door and then back at Corey. “He was dealt a rough hand in life.” He told his friend. “He deserves everything and he…” A sob racked his body and he let go of Corey, who automatically took a step forward to comfort him. “He got shit, Corey. He… he was raped and tortured, and he won't tell me by whom. There’s a detective meeting with us tomorrow; she says she has a lead.”

A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to comfort him. “I don’t know jack about Colby, and I’m kinda scared of both of you right now, but I can tell you that Devyn and I will support you two no matter what.”

Sam nodded, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’m just… I’m so scared, Corey.” He whimpered, “What if he doesn’t love me? I mean, how could he after what he’s been through? Does he see me as just another asshole who’s gonna use him then throw him away?”

“Sam.” There was one beat, then two. “Sam, look at me. Sam!”

The blonde wrenched his head up so that he could look at Corey. The older man smiled down at him, care evident in his eyes. 

“Devyn and I were pretty fucked up in the beginning. You remember my dad and Devyn’s ex. But we’re soulmates. We’ll get through it, and you and Colby will too.” Sam nodded as Corey waited for him to respond. “Let’s go inside and watch our soulmates play with puppies, okay? Every minute we stay out here yelling at each other and crying is a minute you could have spent proving yourself to him.”

“Okay. Yeah.” 

Sam didn’t register much of the short journey inside, as all he could think was that he needed to prove himself. He didn’t know how, but he had to. He had to make his soulmate happy; he had only known Colby for a few days, but he was already head over heels in love. A piece of his soul had been returned to him, and he’d be damned if he let it shatter. This wasn’t some fanfiction where everything got better at the drop of a hat. This was real life. 

They stepped into the warmth of the foyer just as Aaron plopped Buddy into Colby’s lap and the brunette laughed with glee. The small dog yipped and licked at Colby’s hands and face, and both were obviously enjoying it immensely. Gone was the hesitant, scared Colby; here was the Colby that Sam so desperately wanted to see. 

Devyn looked up at Corey from her place beside Colby and they shared The Look™. The signature soulmate look. The look that people without soulmates coveted and people with soulmates adored. Colby hadn’t looked at Sam that way yet, but he would do anything to see that look in his soulmate’s eyes.

He watched as Aaron and Jake brought Colby a cookie, he had no idea where from, and he accepted with a small hesitance. He watched his soulmate fit in with these people, and smile like he was even mildly happy. Things were gonna get better. Sam hoped it, knew it, believed it. 

He and Colby were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to hear you guy's opinions. Hit me up, but don't be too harsh. My fragile heart can only take so much. :D


	8. Diner at the Edge of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old-fashioned diner is the setting of a meeting with a certain detective that sets Colby on the path to reuniting with his fractured family, Sam on the path towards being supportive despite the crippling fear of losing the man he loves, and all three on a dangerous journey towards the safety that they realize they no longer possess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to use rich text, but it won't let me.

Shea sat on the inner side of a booth at some cheesy diner, stirring her Coke with one of those little red straws with no discernable use. Her boot tapped against the sticky floor as she busied her free hand’s nervous fingers with braiding the torn strips of her napkin. Every few seconds she looked at the door, waiting for her clients to walk in. 

She was nervous, of course she was. There was so much at stake, her own job included. What would happen when the world found out that she had pronounced a living man dead? It would ruin her career, not to mention the lives of the people Rory had hurt. Like Colby Brock.

A wave of guilt slammed through her body and she felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Colby, and maybe countless others, had suffered because she couldn’t be bothered to actually check to make sure Rory Parkinson was actually dead. All she had done was look over the bridge and into the water and assume he was dead. After all, he had to be sleeping with the fishes.

She had never been that wrong before.

The doorbell jingled and she looked up, a swarm of wild butterflies attacked her gut, but she held herself higher still. Sam Golbach and Colby Brock stood in the front of the restaurant, Colby plastered to Sam’s side in a strangely trusting, but yet untrusting way. 

She watched as a busty woman in a short, stereotypical blue waitress uniform directed them to the detective’s table. The waitress’s name was Kelly. She gave out free soft drinks to people that looked like they needed it. That day, before the appointment, Shea had looked like she needed it. 

The two boys made their way towards Shea’s table, and as they passed the soda bar, Kelly handed Colby two glasses full of Sprite. Shea couldn’t see her lips well enough to read them, nor could she hear the waitress’s words over the obnoxious sound of a smoothie maker, but she could almost feel what she said.

"You’ve got some stuff on your mind, sweet cheeks. I can see it in those eyes of yours. Have some carbonated sugar water, pumpkin. It’ll take it all off your chest."

Shea retched into one of the napkins from the dispenser. This was all her fault. Oh goodness, this was all her fault. She saw the dark circles around Colby’s eyes and the scars that showed on his neck and wrists. She saw the tired look on Sam’s face and when he took the cup from Kelly, the nail marks on his palm. She had caused it with her negligence.

“Hi, you’re Shea Elyse, right?” 

She looked up, breathing into her folded hands. Sam Golbach stood over her, hand out for a shake, while Colby Brock all but hid behind him. She reached out and took it, her guilt running waves into him.

“Hey.” She whispered as Sam slid into the booth, leaving Colby standing in the aisle. “I’m Shea.”

Colby nodded, sitting on the edge of the booth. “Hi.”

“I’m here to help you.” Shea told him, sliding a donut across the table, which he took but didn’t eat. “I know about what happened to you. Do YOU know about what happened to you?”

Sam looked over at his soulmate, and Shea’s heart crumbled at the look as more self-hatred rolled through her body. The brunette shook his head slowly, tearing the doughnut in half.

“No.”

“Well, I can help with that.” Shea said, “Do you want to know your real name?”

Colby didn’t look up. “I just got here. It’s a little much.”

Shea and Sam both chuckled as Shea leaned forward. “Well, do you?”

“Y-yes.”

Shea saw Sam lean forward out of the corner of her eye. “Your name is Cole Robert Brock.” She told him. “Your father’s name is Robert; your mother’s name is Amy. You have an older brother named Gage. You’re from Stanley, Kansas, and you were taken from your nursery when you were two months old.”

Colby wouldn’t look at her still, burying his head in his hands. Sam reached out to comfort him, but Shea pulled his hand away. He looked at her indignantly, eyebrows raising in a "what the hell" manner. 

“He needs a moment.” She whispered to the blonde. “Just wait. I’ve dealt with this before…” She hesitated. “Not exactly, but I understand how to deal with it at least. So just wait.”

Sam nodded and they both watched Colby as he sat up again. “Robert and Amy and Gage.” He whispered, “Did they… did they look for me?”

Shea nodded, pulling a file out of the briefcase that sat against her hip and sliding it across the table. Sam took and opened it, leaning to the side to let Colby read it too.

“They nearly went bankrupt looking for you.” Shea supplied as Sam returned the file to the table, both boys white as a sheet. 

“My father killed himself.” Colby mumbled.

“He tried to, after they couldn't find you.” Shea corrected, opening the file again and pointing to the medical records. “The doctors saved him. He, your mother, and your brother still live in Stanley.”

Colby looked up at her. “Do they know I’m alive?”

Shea shook her head. “You’re legally an adult, so I thought you might like to make the call yourself.”

“Do you have a picture of them?” Colby asked, his voice cracking and tears welling in his eyes. “I… I want to see what my mom looks like.”

Shea’s heart broke as she handed him a picture of the three remaining family members. He clutched it in his hands, tracing a finger against the paper. 

“You look so much like them!” Sam said, “You have your mom’s eyes and your dad’s nose. You and your brother could be twins!” He looked up at Shea. “They aren’t twins, right?”

She shook her head, smiling with a bit more joy than she felt. 

“I know something else too, Colby.” She said, “I know that the men that took you weren’t the men that dropped you at that barn.” 

She was really talking to Sam, but she addressed her words to Colby so she could see how he reacted. He did nothing.

“The men that took you were local thugs. They sold you for a good profit to three men. Do you know the names of those three men?”

Shea had expected Colby to shake his head, but instead he nodded. “Mr. Rory, Mr. Harvey, and papa- I mean… Mr. Cessair."

Disgust roiled in Shea’s gut, and she could read it on Sam’s face as well. The motherfucker had Colby calling him papa, like fucking Eleven. He had no right to be on the receiving end of Colby’s affections, nor did he have the right to hear a child call him papa, the sick fucking bastard.

She leaned back, crossing her legs. She hated what she was about to say, but she knew it had to be said. “They sold you, didn’t they? They sold you to men and women that did bad things to you.”  
Colby tucked himself further into Sam’s side, trembling and hiding his face in his shoulder, the fabric beginning to become damp from his tears.

And then the dam broke.

“I didn’t like it, I swear I didn’t!” He sobbed into Sam’s jacket as the blonde held him, tears welling in his own eyes. “They said that I did and they called me names, but I didn’t like it! They said they owned me and I had to like it. I don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me go back!”

Sam let out a choked sob, hugging his trembling soulmate to his chest. “Oh my…” His words trailed off as there was nothing he could say that would even come close to the pain that Shea was sure was blooming in his chest.

“You are not going back, Colby.” Shea stated, “They don’t own you. They had you kidnapped and they sold you to rapists and they tortured you when you didn’t moan the right way.”

She knew it was too much for him, but she was too far gone. Her anger bubbled up and overflowed like a cauldron full of lava and she exploded like a small volcano.

“You are not their slut, Colby. You are a human-fucking-being. You are Cole Robert Brock and you are not defined by this or anything else that has happened to you. You are strong, and powerful, and you will get through this. Do you hear me?”

Colby shook like a broken washing machine. “They called me a whore and they said that no one would ever love me. They said that if I wasn’t good enough for them, then I wasn’t good enough for anyone and I was lucky that someone else wanted me otherwise they’d put a bullet in me.”

Sick fuckers.

“That’s not true!” Sam cried, cupping Colby’s face in his hands. “I love you so much and I’ve only known you for a few days. You are not the words they or anyone else said.”

Tears slipped onto Sam’s hands and others onto his shirt, and he wiped them away with his thumb, placing a kiss on Colby’s forehead. 

Shea’s mind wrapped around what he had said and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t think or breathe as she stood up, crossing over to their side of the booth and leaning over them, waiting. They broke apart, tear filled eyes looking up at her with such trust that she yet again began to hate herself. But she was on a mission; she couldn’t think of that now. 

Colby had said something. Something horrible.

“Did you just say that someone else wanted to buy you?”

Colby nodded, wiping tears from the underside of his jaw. “That’s why they left me in the barn, ma’am. But nobody ever came.”

“How long were you in the barn?” Sam asked him.

“Three days, I think. I wanted to leave, but they said they’d kill me if I did.”

Shea and Sam looked at each other, desperation in their eyes. Someone had tried to buy Colby, and they had obviously failed, but in a world of sex trafficking, baby taking, and attempted murder, how far would they go to get him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter. Doesn't mean me or my depression/anxiety combo likes it, but it'll do.


	9. Hiatus

Hey, guys. If you look at Colby's twitter account, I'm Holy Fanfic Writer. He reposted a tweet I made and I'm getting a lot of hate. I know it isn't his fault, but I'm getting death threats and I'm tired. So I'm going to take a SHORT hiatus to figure my shit out and then maybe I'll come back. I cant write about them right now. My depression is really bad and I just don't think that I can continue on like this. I'm also considering whether or not I want to be part of this fandom anymore. 

I hope you understand and that you will come back and read more once I'm back. 

Chao for now, Nimm


	10. Love is Poison, Love is Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you love something let it go  
> It isn’t your place to tell it no  
> You aren’t a cage in which it’s kept  
> You are a pillow on which its head can rest  
> If it comes back you are meant to be  
> If it does not…  
> Just let it be free.  
> \- H.D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back. Sorry for the hiatus. I just needed some time to figure my shit out. The hate bullshit has gone down and everything is okay now, so I will be continuing to update this story.  
> I will also be posting another story that I came up with on Twitter with my friend Emily. It'll be called "Terror on Woodley Avenue". I'll be updating both, so no worries.
> 
> I'd like to thank the person who dmed me after my hiatus chapter. It meant a lot, so thank you.
> 
> Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy this.

The first night Colby spent with Sam harbored no sleep for any of the roommates. 

Devyn and Colby spent the first part of the night playing card games in the living room, while Sam sat nearby and Corey played Rocket League on the tv. Jake and Aaron had, at first, gone to their rooms to edit their respective videos, but the strange pull of the equally strange roommate lured them out to the living room, where they sat and played with the two house dogs.  
Sam could, and did, spend hours watching Colby smile awkwardly at Devyn’s light-hearted jokes and lose horribly at Uno. He had never played a card game before, which broke every heart in the room, so Devyn taught him, and she taught him well enough that he ended up able to whup her ass by about two in the morning. 

The afternoon of that day harbored the meeting with Shea. A meeting that tore Sam’s heart straight out of his chest.

As Sam drove out of the diner’s parking lot and towards home, Colby’s chunky file in one hand and steering wheel in the other, tears began to stream freely down his face, but he hid them from his soulmate. Conceal, don’t feel.

Rape, torture, sex trafficking, kidnapping. Colby’s life had been hell and there was nothing he could do. He was helpless, but nowhere near as helpless as Colby had been. He wanted to blame it all on himself, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. 

He slammed through the front door, scaring the sparkling shit out of the house dogs, and barely made it to the kitchen before he collapsed onto one of the chairs. A raw sob tore through his body, his hands shaking as he looked through the file. The horrible words ran together, the red ink looking too much like blood and he fell back, screaming into his hands. 

This was not how their lives together were supposed to start. They were supposed to have a meet cute at a grocery store or a coffee shop and Sam was supposed to write his number on Colby’s hand. They were supposed to go on one date, and then another, and then another, and he was supposed to propose a few months later. They were supposed to get married on a Saturday evening and share their first dance and go on a honeymoon somewhere tropical because that’s what everyone does. They were supposed to live in a subdivision with a white picket fence and have two kids and live happily ever after.

But that was not their story.

Would there be a happily ever after at all? Or would everything crash and burn? Would Colby be taken from him? There were so many questions circling through his head that he found himself sobbing harder. It was all so overwhelming and he didn’t know how to help Colby.

He sat there, numb, for a few minutes before he felt something on his knee. Opening his eyes, he saw Colby kneeling in front of him, head bowed. His hands gripped both of Sam’s knees and he didn’t look up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He whispered, “Please let me make it up to you… I… I don’t want to leave…”

Sam scooted his chair backwards violently. “Colby, that’s not what this is!” He cried, “You’re safe here!”

Colby knelt in front of him, a dejected, lost look on his beautiful face. He seemed so confused that Sam wanted to scoop him into his arms and hold him until he couldn’t any longer. He looked up at Sam as tears started gathering in his eyes.

“Please, just let me service you!”

Sam raked his hands through his hair. “No! I’m not like those assholes that hurt you! You’re not hear to “service” me, Colby! That’s not your purpose, no matter what they told you.”

“Then what IS my purpose?” Colby screamed, so loud that Sam scooted further back, hands in the air. “What? Do you expect me to live my life as if I wasn’t a fucking sex slave since I was a baby? I don’t know how to live like this, Sam! I don’t know how to cook or clean or play cards, for fuck’s sake. I’m nigh on to a panic attack right now because I’m speaking for myself for the first time in goshdamn forever!”

He paused to regain his breath, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“And you… you thrust me into this life full of beauty and people who play cards with me all night and give me what I assume is love, and you expect me to be okay. You don’t bring me to a therapist or even so much as offer to buy me a damn self-help book! You didn’t give me a choice about what to do! You just took me prisoner and brought me here. I am not your fucking property!”

Sam started to cry, burying his face in his hands. His brain hurt; he just wanted to sleep. Sleep next to his soulmate and wake up in the morning and never deal with this shit again.

“What do you want me to do?” He sobbed, “Until like three days ago I was straight and my soulmate was going to be some cute barista somewhere, not a damn rape victim! I’ve lived my entire life only caring about myself and now that I’ve met you, I don’t know how to cope. How do I tell you how much I love you when you have no clue what love truly means?”

Colby stood up, his fists clenched. Heavy breaths ruled his body; he was obviously afraid, but very, very angry.

“You don’t love me!” He screamed, “You don’t love me, Sam!”

Sam stood up too, stepping towards Colby, his heart breaking when his soulmate backed away from him. They stood like that for a few more seconds before Colby spoke.

“You love what you want me to be. You love me as a pretty little trophy husband, smiling in the videos you make and kissing babies on their heads. You don’t love me for who I am; one sorry, broken son of a bitch.”

Sam sighed, tears still falling. They burnt his cheeks, leaving ugly tracks down his face and he tried to wipe them off, but to no avail.

“Colby, please, I…”

Colby held up a shaking hand. “And you know what?” He asked, stepping forward.

Sam mirrored him, stepping forward. Hope brewed in his soul. Maybe they could pick up the pieces after that horrible… whatever it was. They could fix this, they could-  
“I don’t love you.”

That hope shattered into a million tiny blackbirds and they all flew away, finding someone else within whom they could nest. Sam retched, running to the sink and throwing up.

His soulmate didn’t love him.

His soulmate didn’t love him.

His soulmate didn’t love him.

He sobbed as he threw up, gripping the edges of the sink and retching until his body was convulsing with sobs and empty gags. He didn’t pull himself up as he turned on the faucet to wash it all away, letting it pound onto his head like the rain and sleet the day he met Colby. He sobbed harder as he thought of his sorry fucking life.

He was alone. All around him were happy people with their soulmates, and he was alone. His soulmate didn’t want him.

He screamed in pain and agony and sorrow and fell to the ground in a fetal position as his wrist singed black, his infinity mark covered by the new third-degree burn. He pulled himself up to the sink once more and threw up again, tears still flowing.

All he had ever wanted was love and now he didn’t even have a chance.

The water was still running and he sputtered, accidentally inhaling water, before turning it off and falling back onto the tile. He looked to the side, searching for Colby, but finding no one, nothing. He drug himself to the hallway, grunting and sobbing the entire way, his ruined wrist throbbing. Colby was nowhere to be found, and as he looked up to the table, he saw that his wallet and Colby’s file was gone too.  
He screamed into his hands, tears no longer flowing, his body racking with the sobs that produced nothing but stolen breath. He curled up and held his knees to his chest, shivering in the cold. He faintly heard Devyn calling his name as she came through the front door, and barely felt Corey lugging him off of the ground and pulling him somewhere, but he didn’t respond. 

The darkness in his heart took over soon enough and he fell into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, Sam isn't just one weak mofo; he's being afflicted with actual pain by Colby's rejection because I am evil and no matter what, real or not, the people in my stories always get hurt.
> 
> If you would be so kind as to follow me on my Twitter, as I am ten followers away from three hundred, that would be awesome. I'm under the same name.


	11. Sunset Views and Darkness Looms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up without a heart and Shea faces an adversary in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE. So sorry that I haven't been here. I kinda lost motivation, but I'm not one of those assholes that abandon fics. I might update soon but currently I'm watching a movie with my friend so right now I'm basically being a bitch.
> 
> Check me out at @Hadlie_Rose on Twitter and NimmEmrysCayn on Wattpad because I'm an attention hoarder.
> 
> Love ya'll! Keep being amazing.
> 
> Ps. This is unedited so no judgy judgy.

Beep…… beep…… beep…… beep……

It sounded like an alarm clock, telling Sam that it was time he opened his eyes.

Wake up…… wake up…… wake up……

It was time to face reality. Time to accept his life without love.

Beep…… beep…… beep…… beep…… 

He felt like he had in high school when his mom woke him up too early. All he wanted was to go back to sleep and forget everything.

Wake up…… wake up…… wake up……

He groaned, opening his eyes to a blinding white light and hissing at the brightness, but all that came out was a gurgle around the tube that went down his throat, attached to something he could not see. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe through his mouth. The light moved, taken away by the gloved hand of a masked doctor. Her eyebrows raised for a moment on seeing him awake, but she recovered, looked back at another doctor who was surely nearby, and upon what Sam assumed was an okay from the other doctor, took the offending tube from his esophagus. 

“Hello Mr. Golbach. We weren’t expecting you to wake up so soon.”

He opened his mouth to respond but only a croak came through his dry lips. He gasped out to ask for water, but only a mumble could be heard. Bringing his feeble hand up to his lips, he made the sign for water, like his father had taught him so seemingly long ago. 

The doctor disapeared for a moment before coming back with a water bottle. She lifted it to his lips and helped him drink despite his ability to use his hands. Corking the bottle when he was finished, she set it on the side table and turned to him.

“Are you able to sit up?”

He nodded, grunting as he pulled himself up and allowed the doctor to prop him up with pillows. Sitting at the edge of the bed next to him, she peered down at her clipboard.

“You are experiencing something that no one should have to experience, Mr. Golbach.” She told him, “It is not very often that someone is rejected by their soulmate, and as such, there are not many people who will be able to help you or sympathize with you.”

Hands knotted into the sheets, Sam leant his head back into the pillows and nodded slightly. He understood. Most soulmates were married the next day, living happily ever after. Unlike him.

She looked up at him, putting her hand on his arm. “You are emotionally drained, Mr. Golbach, but the rejection will bear no permanent harm. You will be able to live life again, don’t worry about that. What you need to worry about is your emotional welfare. You need to cut everything that reminds you of your ex soulmate out of your life. Possessions, places, even people. Keeping them as remembrance will do you more harm than good. Do you follow?”

“Yes…” Sam croaked, taking the water bottle back from the side table.

“Whatever you do, no matter how much you want to, do not go looking for your soulmate. I have been told that he stole your wallet. The police will take care of that for you so-”

“No.” Sam whispered. “I have plenty of money. Let him keep it.”

The doctor pushed her mask down and frowned. He could see that her timer had not even turned on yet. She would not understand the love that bloomed within him despite the betrayal.

“Why would you let him do that?” She asked, twiddling with her pen. 

Sam turned his head as to look out the window. The sun was rising, but he saw no beauty in it. It was like Col… He couldn’t bear to even think his name... it was like He had taken everything good away with him when he left. The pictures on the walls were not colorful to Sam… nothing was. Everything was black and white; he was colorblind. The stories that told what happened when two soulmates were separated were true.

“He needs to find himself.” He told her, closing his eyes. “He needs to find his family. He needs to live life, and I don’t think he could do that with a soulmate.”

The nurse still looked confused, but she nodded. “Alright….” The air was stale with silence for a few beats. “I’ll call off the investigators.” 

She went to get up but Sam grabbed her wrist. “I need a phone.” He told her, “I have someone I need to call.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………

Shea downed the fourth glass of scotch, slamming it onto the bar, nearly shattering it at the base. The bartender eyed her warily as she scooted the glass towards him, but took the glass and filled it. She stared down at the bar as he placed it in front of her again, but didn’t take the cup.

The barstool next to her scraped as it was pushed aside, the sculpted arms of some cookie cutter male Adonis viewable out of the corner of her eye. Alex, or Brad, or Tony, or whatever the fuck his name was, cleared his throat, obviously waiting for her to turn and pet his biceps or some shit. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the type to fawn over a pretty face.  
He ordered a froufrou lil’ drinkie poo and she rolled her eyes as he introduced himself to her. His name was Chris. Yet another vanilla name for another vanilla man. 

He probably had an average dick too.

She snickered quietly as he sipped on the drink and chattered on, but only listened to him as he began to talk about her.

“I saw you from across the room and I just knew you needed someone.” He told her. “Little girl all alone in a bar like this? You gotta be looking for a man like me.”

Oh hell no. She turned towards him with a faux smile and settled herself in for some sexist entertainment. 

“And what exactly do you think I need?” She asked in a sickeningly sweet voice that nearly made her throw up.

Chris thought for a moment; she could see his pea sized brain’s gears turning and it was obviously no easy feat for him. The guy was obviously dumb as a box of rocks. 

“To be honest? I think you need a good fucking.” He arched his brow like he was the new James Bond and Shea was going to chuck her clothes off and suck his micro dick then and there. That pickup line was a lot less suave than he thought.

Shea’s eyes widened and she chuckled. “What happened to good ol’ romance, there Chris?” 

Chris laughed, tucking a lock of Shea’s hair behind her ear before leaning forward. “Why don’t we take this to my apartment?” He whispered, so close that she could smell how drunk he was.

Shea pushed him away, turning back to her drink. The bartender raised his eyebrow, nudging the empty pistol he kept below the register so that she could see. She shook her head slowly at him, swirling the liquor around in her glass. She didn’t need anyone’s help to get rid of an asshole at a bar.

“I think I’ll pass.” She said, standing up and tossing a ten on the bar. “I’m not exactly in the mood.”

She went to walk past him but he stood up as well and grabbed her around the waist, spinning her back to face him. She attempted to pull back but he locked her in place so that she couldn’t move.

“Now, that isn’t what I like to hear.” He growled, gripping her chin.

The bartender jumped over a low part of the bar and stalked towards them. “I’m going to need you to put the lady down, sir. We ain’t that kinda establishment where we let entitled dickwats like you grope ladies.”

Shea laughed, wrenching her chin from Chris’ grip. “I don’t need any help, Gary.” She told the bartender, grinning. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah!” Chris hollered drunkenly. “She’s fi-”

His words were cut off as Shea slammed her knee into his crotch. He stumbled back, cussing like a trucker, before grabbing a pool stick from the pool table and lunging at her. She stepped to the side and twisted the stick out of his grip, snapping it in half and throwing it to the side. He lunged at her again, the same redundant move, and she sidestepped again, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the bar. He yelled and fell to the ground, cradling his hurt forehead, as she slammed her boot down into his dick and ground into it. He gasped, clawing at her ankle, but to be honest he was too much of a pansy to properly fight back. 

Shea frowned at him as he made stupid pleas for her to stop. Why should she stop if he didn’t?

“If you EVER touch me or anyone else in this bar again, I will castrate you and shove your grape sized nuts down your throat.” She growled, “You hear?”

He nodded vigorously as she moved her foot away, and scrambled up, backing away slowly. He glanced around at the damage, cupping his hands over his balls, and scurried out like a frightened mouse. Shea turned and slapped two hundreds onto the bar, which the bartender took and thumbed through.

“You know you didn’t pay me for last time, right?” He asked, eying the bills. “You broke Frank’s teeth.”

She raised her eyebrow before pulling a fifty out of her wallet and handing it to him. “Frank has like two teeth.” She said, “I was doing him a favor.” 

Gary rolled his eyes and stuck the bills in his back pocket. “Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, stepping over some of the broken glass. “I’ll call you a cab.”

Shea shook her head and headed for the door. “I’ll walk. Need the exercise anyway.”

Gary set the phone down and watched her as she left, sighing as he eyed the damage. If only he had a boss to pay him overtime. Unfortunately, he had gone the route of business ownership. Pity. 

Shea shut the door and locked it behind her; their fight had gone past closing time. She flipped the “we’re open” sign to Gary’s signature “go away”. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk as she pulled her loose hair back into an obviously messy (she had downed several whiskeys after all) ponytail at the nape of her neck. She stumbled over a jut out in the sidewalk and startled slightly as her phone began to ring. 

She fumbled it out of her pocket and placed it at her ear. “Hey what’s…” Realizing that her business number had been the one called, she straightened her shoulders as much as she could in her current state and tried again. “Detective Shea Elyse speaking. How may I help you?”

Whoever was on the other end hesitated before Shea could hear Sam Golbach’s quiet voice speak. “Hey… um… this is Sam Golbach. I have a favor to ask.”

Shea nodded despite his inability to see her. “Anything.” She told the man. “Anything at all.” 

She careened to a stop outside her apartment and slammed her shoulder into the heavy door to open it. The doorman raised his eyebrow at her as she paced into the lobby, waiting for Sam to say something… anything.

“Shove it up your ass, Stew.” She griped silently as she boarded the elevator. Stew mock saluted her as the door slid shut.

“I’m sorry what?” Sam asked, “You aren’t talking to me, are you?”

Shea would’ve blushed if she were normal but she wasn’t exactly. “No, I’m sorry. That was rather unprofessional.”

There was another silence on the other end before Sam spoke again. “Colby ran away.” He said bluntly, without feeling or emotion. “He took my wallet and I need to make sure he’s okay. Or… I need you to make sure he’s okay.”

Shea’s eyes went wide and she gasped as the elevator opened. “Why did he run?” She cried, “Why did you let him? We need to protect him.”

“He needs to figure himself out, and I’m calling you so that you can protect him. You’re a detective. You know a guy who knows a girl who styles the hair of a man whose dentist fixes the teeth of someone special’s teenager with an overbite. You can watch Colby and make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I know you can.”

Shea stopped at her door and fumbled the keys into the lock one handedly before sighing. “Where is he? Do you know?”

Sam grunted. “I don’t know where he is right now, but I think I know where he’s going. Hold on.”

Shea grunted an “alright”, pulled the wrong key out of the lock, and picked another, finally finding the correct one and shoving it in. She strode through the door and threw her wallet onto her loveseat. She shucked her coat onto the floor and made her way to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights before throwing open the refrigerator doors. 

No good food. Of course.

She began to reach for a yogurt before the hair at the back of her neck stood on end. She was not alone.

“You don’t have very nutritious eating habits do you.”

She slammed on the lights and spun around, pulling one of her many guns from under the counter and pointing it towards the source of the voice. Her phone dropped to the ground as Sam picked up again.

“I think he’s trying to find his parents. In Stanley, Kansas.”

Shea stomped on the phone, shattering it, but whoever stood further into the darkness than she could see still heard. A light laughter came from the corner of the room and Shea gripped her gun tighter.

“Get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” She screamed, firing into the darkness like a scared teenager with a duck gun.

The darkness said nothing. It only sat at the back of the room like stale cookies in a microwave. Shea loaded her gun and advanced but when the she and the darkness met, a loud sound echoed through the apartment and she knew no more.


	12. He's Still Dead When the Bottle's Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~The hardest part of losing a child is living every day afterwards~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm so sorry about my shitty updating schedule. I haven't been in a good place for a while, but I'm getting better, so ya'll can expect this fic to be finished. I'm so grateful to all of you for reading this and commenting so nicely. It means so much.
> 
> I’m also sorry about this chapter, as it’s not that great. I just felt I needed to get something out there and this is what happened. I’ve been writing and rewriting this over and over again and FINALLY got something I liked but then AO3 derped out and DELETED ALL OF IT. 
> 
> I just want to cover a few bases here. I know my depiction of the police and FBI forces are probably not all that realistic but I’m an English major and this is a fanfiction. Also, I don’t know much about Colby’s family so I’m just pulling off of what I think I know. 
> 
> There was a whole lot more that I wanted to say but I honestly forgot. So, I’m just going to say this: enjoy!

*nineteen years prior*

 

A crash in the night woke Robert Brock from his fitful sleep, jolting him up into a sitting position. The clock on his wife’s side table read 3:23 a.m. The moon cast misty shadows to the hardwood floor and the crickets outside made no sound. He listened intently for his infant son’s crying, but all that he could hear was silence. Another crash came from somewhere in the house and he shook his wife awake.

“Amy.” He whispered as she groggily opened her eyes. “You hear that?” 

She struggled to sit up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Hear what?”

Another crash resounded through the house, louder this time, and suddenly their toddler son, Gage, began to scream bloody murder. The sound of shattering glass had Robert jumping out of bed and turning on the light.

“Is someone in the house?” Amy cried, scrambling out of bed to turn her light on as well.

The sound of another window shattering answered their question for them and Robert strode towards the door, nearly opening it before Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him back, placing her other hand on the door so he couldn’t open it. 

“What are you doing?” She whisper-screamed, 

“Stay here.” He told her, “My gun is right outside this door. I’ve got this under control.”

“What about Gage and Cole?” Her eyes were huge and worried and she was shivering violently from the fear, cold, and trepidation. “One of us needs to go to them.”

“I’ll check and lock Gage’s door as I go by.” Robert whispered, “I… I think the noise is coming from the front of the house, so I’ll check on Cole when I get up there. Okay? We’re gonna be fine.”

“What if we aren’t? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Robert shook his head and let on a small smile. “I won’t. It’s probably just some stupid kids with bats. They’ll scatter the minute they see the gun. But I have to be sure.”

They shared a fearful moment before Robert slipped out the door and cast a glance down the hallway, looking for the intruders. He toed open the closet door and grabbed his gun from the top shelf, checking to see if it was loaded. Another crash sounded from a different place in the house and he clicked the safety off, creeping down the hall and into the living room. A lamp lay shattered on the ground but otherwise nothing was amiss.

“Hello?” He yelled, turning into the darkness of the foyer. “Whoever you are, just know I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

No one responded to him, so he backed across the living room and checked his toddler’s room. Gage was sitting bolt upright, tears streaming down his face. He pointed across the house towards his brother’s room, shaking in fear.

“Colby.” He whispered, and then began to sob harder.

Adrenaline shot through Robert’s veins as he slammed the door shut, locked it, and took off across the house. The worst thoughts flashed through his mind, fear tinging his vision. He made it to his younger son’s room and threw the door open to find nothing amiss.

Sighing a breath of relief, he leant against the doorway. There was no one here. Maybe Gage got up for some reason, knocked over the lamp, and hurt himself. Robert turned to exit the room, but a small breeze rushed through his hair, stopping him in his tracks. 

The window was open.

He strode across the room and peered into Cole’s cradle, his calm resolve shattering as he found nothing inside. Rushing to the window, he stuck his head outside just in time to see a dark van pull out of their driveway and away. He stopped breathing then, screaming for Amy to call the police, and scrambling around the room, looking for anywhere Cole could have been hiding, but finding nothing other than a large mark on the wall, a symbol that would be branded into the backs of his eyelids forever.

The police came, milling around and blocking off Cole’s nursery with yellow tape, asking questions to all the neighbors, groggy and confused at why they had been woken up. They told Robert and Amy, as they shivered in the night cold, that the symbol on the wall was that of unknown origin and that they didn’t have the slightest clue as to where their son had gone or how the perps had gotten into the house, as there were no marks indicating breaking in.

They were gone by morning, promising to keep the couple updated, leaving their mark behind in the form of the yellow tape, still blocking off Cole’s nursery, and boot marks on the floors. The house was in a disarray, and neither Amy nor Robert knew how to explain that and the absence of their youngest to Gage, so they didn’t; ignoring his questions and pleas for attention and shipping him off to his grandma’s house so that they could focus on Cole’s absence. 

Sleep evaded them for months to come. 

The case was abandoned within six months; labeled a cold case and stuck in a box somewhere to be forgotten. Cole was declared dead and the grief-stricken couple buried a tiny casket full of roses and teddy bears in his memory. Neither of them cried at the memorial, for their tears had been wasted praying to a God that didn’t answer to give them back their son.  
Church memberships were forgotten and both Robert and Amy completely lost faith in the so-called God that they had once worshipped. Their friends would tell them that their baby boy’s death was God’s plan, and if that was true and God was real, neither of them wanted to worship a God that would take their son away from them. Eventually their friends and family stopped trying, stopped reassuring, stopped visiting. Amy and Robert were left alone in their darkness, barely even parenting Gage enough to make him feel loved.

Robert hung himself on a Tuesday. Amy woke up to the sound of her husband choking to death in the room next door and soon police officers swarmed the house for the second time that year. As Amy sat in the back of a police car, wrapped in a shock blanket and holding Gage as close as she could, she expected to see her husband being wheeled out with a sheet over his head, but instead a paramedic told her to get into the ambulance if she wanted to see her still alive husband to the ER. 

It was there, in the waiting room at the hospital, holding her breath, a child who didn’t understand where his daddy and little brother had gone sitting on her lap, that she decided that she wasn’t going to wallow in it anymore. Fuck the sadness and the groveling and all of the staying-in-bed-drinking-tequila-watching-Doctor-Phil-and-feeling-sorry-for-herself bullshit. Fuck not being a good mother and not cleaning and not eating. If this was what all of that caused, then she had to change. Not just for herself, but for what was left of her family. She couldn’t lose anyone else.

When Robert woke up, sobs and broken apologies on his lips, she held him close and they cried for their lost son one last time before they went home, the hospital band still around Robert’s pale wrist, and swept up the shattered glass of the life that they had neglected for so long. Finally explaining to Gage what had happened nearly destroyed them, but once he understood, they saw a maturity in him that they themselves had not shown as he asked to go to the cemetery, and upon getting there, placed a kiss on the top of Cole’s gravestone and left a bunch of flowers he had picked in Amy’s neglected garden behind. 

It took years for the two to heal enough to stop blaming themselves, and even then, there were still deep holes inside of them, where Cole used to be. They never stopped loving him, and never stopped hoping that he was in a better place. Unable to fully express the pain that they still felt, they wrote their words in notebooks, restaurant napkins, and train tickets, pouring out every feeling they had felt since Cole’s loss into a letter, of sorts, directed to those that had lost a child, and in some ways, to the men that had taken their children in the first place. And when every notebook they had was filled with words, they realized that it wasn’t just for them. It needed to be shared. Their pain could help others heal from their own tragedies. 

Three years after Cole Robert Brock’s death, his parents published a memoir, “Losing Cole”, and it sold out in almost every country. Mail started to pour in; mourning parents thanking them for giving them something akin to a shoulder to cry on, people apologizing for their loss, children who had lost a sibling shakily thanking them in purple crayon for helping them understand what had happen to their siblings. For the first time since Cole had passed, Robert and Amy felt like their lives finally meant something. 

Amy built a wall over Cole’s nursery, preserving it perfectly in her memory, so that they could fully move on, and they locked his things in a trunk in the attic, only taking them out on bad days.

Every year on Cole’s birthday, the family would go to his grave and leave flowers in his memory. This was what they did on Cole’s twenty-first birthday, Gage flying home from California where he was now a artist and civilian detective, Amy and Robert taking a day off of press conferences and author related bullshit. The family sat by the grave that day and talked, like they always did, telling Cole what they had done between the last time they had visited and now.

“My art got accepted into a gallery.” Gage said, playing with a blade of grass in the shade of the willow tree that they had placed Cole’s headstone under. “And my sketch of that kidnapper, the one from the McGee case, helped solve the case.”

He squinted in the sunlight shining through the branches and turned to smile at his parents. They had gone to see the ceremony only weeks before and stayed in Cali long enough to see the sights; their son a perfect tour guide. Gage would be twenty-five that year, four years Cole’s senior, and he looked exactly like the age progression pictures predicted Cole would have looked. After all of the family’s problems, Amy and Robert were monumentally proud of their son for his accomplishments. How could they not be? He would occasionally work as a civilian detective and had helped solve dozens of murders and kidnappings and given closure to multiple families through his sketches. If only someone could’ve done that for them.

“Didn’t you say you’re seeing someone?” Amy asked her son, leaning her head against Robert’s shoulder. “Melinda, was it?”

Gage’s eyes darkened and he looked away. “Not anymore. Turns out the “science lab” she worked at was actually a meth lab. She’s serving time now and I don’t date drugheads or criminals considering I, y’know, help catch them.”

Robert snorted. “Damn. You’re about as unlucky in love as I was before your mother.”

Gage looked back to his parents and snatched a scone from the picnic basket they had brought with them. “Why even bother dating someone if they aren’t my soulmate anyway?” He asked, “If my clock doesn’t start ticking, then it probably won’t work out. And besides, nobody offers insurance for non-soulmate couples. What if something happened to me? Whoever I was dating would be screwed.”

Amy reached out and slapped his leg. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I never know, mom. I have a dangerous job. Well, occasionally, when I’m not sketching random Joes that some woman named Barbara thinks might be the suspect.”

“And we’re proud as hell of you, son.” Robert told him, “But don’t be like one of those idiots on CSI that don’t wear their damn bullet proof vest and end up six feet under.” He paused. “I can’t bury another son.”

Gage grinned. “I never go anywhere without my vest. I’m wearing it now actually.”

Amy laughed, rubbing her son’s shoulder. “You don’t need to wear it now. You’re a civilian detective and sketch artist, not the police chief. You’ll be-”

“Excuse me?” A foreign voice called out from behind them, cutting through the calm of the family meeting.

The family turned to see two suited people standing behind them; a young woman with wavy brown hair with purple highlights, and a well-built man with unkempt reddish hair. Their faces were serious and grim, but both of them had a kind, and slightly mischievous, twinkle in their eyes. 

Robert rose, dusting off his jeans and stepping forward to greet the two as his wife and son stood up behind him. As he shook the woman’s hand, a glint on her belt caught his eye; a gun. Her eyes followed him down and she smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution for what?” Gage asked, stepping up next to his father. “Who are you people?”

“I’m Special Agent Shane Dawson of the FBI, and this is my partner.” The man told him, producing a badge from his suit pocket and presenting it to Gage.

“Special Agent Gabbie Hanna.” The woman spoke, shaking Gage’s hand after he handed the badge back to Shane. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” Gage’s voice had gone monotonous; a by-product of working in the police field. “Gage Brock, I work for the 32nd Precinct.”

“We know.” Gabbie told him, stepping past him and walking over to the grave. “We’re here to talk to you and your family about the disappearance of Cole Brock. I take it that’s his tombstone?”

Amy smiled and placed her hand on the stone. “It isn’t much of a tombstone, seeing as they never found a body. What are you here to talk about? The case has been closed for years.”

Shane leaned back against the willow and crossed his arms. He almost looked bored, but something but something about him hinted that he cared. “Did you ever consider that they might’ve been lying about closing the case?”

Robert furrowed his brows and copied Shane’s stance, but standing up. “How do you mean?” 

Gabbie glared at Shane before looking to the family, her purple hair falling into her eyes. Her fingers fidgeted against her badge. “What my partner is trying to say is that we found your son.”

Amy’s stomach dropped as she heard those words; she had always known that they would find Cole but had never known when. She and Robert had spent hours picking out a casket to use when they finally found him; tiny like they knew his bones would be. She ran her fingers through her hair and leaned into her husband.

“When can we pick up the body?” 

Gabbie hesitated before turning fully to her. “I think you’ve misunderstood me ma’am. We found your son… and he’s alive.”

Amy vaguely heard the sound of Gage’s cry over the ringing of her ears as she clung to her husband in an effort not to sink to her knees. Blood pounded in her ears beside the ringing and tears streamed down her face.

“Oh, my goodness.” She whispered, “Is… is he okay?”

Gabbie smoothed the front of her shirt and spoke to her and Robert quietly, as if they were children, as Shane tried to console Gage. “He’s gone through a lot of trauma.” She told them, “The people that took him were very evil people. He has severe PTSD, anxiety, and depression, but I know that with love and care, he could be okay.”

“When can we see him?” Gage asked as Shane handed him a tissue. “Please tell me I can meet my little brother. Please.”

“Well, a few days ago you would’ve had to wait. Cole was found by his soulmate and was staying with him, but then he stole his credit card and car hopped to Kansas.”

“Wh-why?” Robert asked, “Why would he do that?”

Shane brushed off his pants and walked over to stand next to his partner. “He wanted to get to you.”

Amy smiled through her tears. “Where is he? Can we see him now? I want to see my baby.”

“I’d suggest you see him later. Right now, he’s resting at the station and gathering his wits. Clean yourselves up.” Gabbie handed her business card to Robert, Amy, and Gage. “We’ll get you at four.”

“Prepare for this.” Shane told them, “He’s not the same person he was all those years ago.”

Somehow, even after hearing that her infant son was dead, that was still the most frightening thing that Amy had heard in a long time.


	13. Coffee and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colby struggles with demons and uncertainty about meeting his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT?! I posted TWICE in a MONTH? How did THAT happen?
> 
> Anyways, this isn't the longest chapter but I want to beef this thing out so here ya go. I just saw that I have a shit ton of kudos and I am so grateful. Thank you guys so much for reading this and for liking it.

The blanket was scratchy against Colby’s arms as he sat in the warm interrogation room of the police station. He wasn’t being interrogated; this was just where he felt most comfortable, away from the throngs of criminals and grouchy looking policemen. Someone had brought him coffee; a smaller, redhead girl who had said her name was Clarissa. She was kind. He felt safe around her.

There were dents on the walls. As he waited, for what he didn’t know, he tried to imagine what had happened there to create those marks. It kind of scared him to think about; but he was so high on missing Sam that he almost couldn’t breathe. His color sight was fading and he struggled to hold on to it; he wanted to see his mother’s eyes.

He made a mental note of the colors in the room. The walls were blue. The table had red legs. The window had a purple bug on the windowsill. The floors had yellow checkers in the tiles. The blanket was pink. His shirt was teal.

That was all that he could focus on as a fresh wave of nausea ripped its way through his body. Sam. He needed Sam. Every bone in his body begged him to crawl back to his soulmate, every cell longing to be with him. The world had never been Colby’s friend, but now he felt even more alone than he had before he had even met his soulmate.

“Mr. Brock?”

He turned, white knuckles gripping the sleeves of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, to see the detectives that Shea had enlisted to help him find his family leaning against the doorframe. Gabbie and Shane. They were kind, like Clarissa; Shane was the one who had brought him the blanket.

“Is something wrong?” Colby asked, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. The looks on the faces of the detectives scared him; made him feel like something was amiss. 

Gabbie’s solemn face broke into a smile and she pulled a chair up next to him. “We got to your family. They want to see you.”

Colby’s heart jolted and thousands of butterflies shot through his stomach, pounding against his ribs in fragile efforts to escape their confine. His fingernails dug deep rivets into his palms as his fists clenched from the sheer effort of not cowering under the table or running away to a more comfortable safety and his hands shook as he hugged himself tight, trying to suffocate the fear.

He had never known his family. Were they kind? Did they still love him? Was he even ready to know them? He thought about how Shea had told him that his father had attempted suicide. He had caused that. It was his fault. Would they resent him? What if he was too broken to be normal? What if they rejected him? What if they weren’t who he thought they would be? 

The what-ifs drowned him in a sea of buzzing nothingness and he wanted to scream, but Shane placed a hand on his shoulder and knelt down next to him. His blue grey eyes were kind and soft as he spoke gently.

“I know I could never understand what you yourself are going through.” He told the younger man. “But when I was two, my aunt took me from my bedroom and I lived with her until I was fifteen, thinking that my parents were dead. That’s nothing compared to what you’ve gone through, but let me just say, I was afraid too. Afraid they wouldn’t love me or that they had moved on. Afraid that they weren’t going to be everything I had ever imagined. But they were.”

Gabbie drew Colby’s eyes to her as she sat across the table from them and sat her feet on the table, pulling out a file to inspect it. The file had his name on it.

“They loved me as much as any good parent would, and even though it wasn’t easy, we became a family. A fractured family, but a family all the same.” Shane continued. “I know your parents will be the same.”

Colby’s heart beat a little slower as he heard those words, but anxiety still weighed heavily on his conscious. He thought about Sam again; he always did. Sam would have held his hand and told him it was alright. But Sam wasn’t there. Colby would have to learn to stand alone.

“Is my brother coming?”

Shane smiled deeply and nodded. “He nearly fainted when we told him you’re alive. He’s excited to see you.”

“When can I see them?” Colby asked, biting the nail of his forefinger. 

Gabbie brought her feet down off of the table and walked over to them, stashing the file in her jacket. “They’re actually in the waiting room right now. We made contact yesterday and planned on telling you then, but we got sidetracked.”

The news that his family was right outside the door hit Colby like a freight train and he began to tremble. His mind was at war; one side screaming to open the door and see the family that he had longed to meet for so long, the other begging for Sam, like always. 

He wanted to run and hide, but he knew he was stronger than that. He had survived all of those years of imprisonment; he could face his fucking family. He wasn’t a coward. He could do this.

He was Colby fucking Brock and he was not weak. There was no way he was letting his fear rule him any longer. He wouldn’t allow himself to be sucked back in. He had to fight.

“Let’s go.”


	14. Fractured Family Values

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two worlds collide and sparks ignite fires. False senses of security hang in the air and old pain is brought up yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo it's kinda been a while...… sorry about that ya'll. I kept meaning to post and then life would happen and I'd forget. I'm seriously trying to get better.
> 
> Be aware that this chapter is un beta'd so its pretty much just the first draft with little to no editing, but hey; I do this for free.
> 
> I've said it before and I'll say it again: i fucking love comments. Leave some if you'd like but do try to check me out on Twitter--- @Hadlie_Rose.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy!

Amy couldn’t bear to watch the clock tick by as moment after moment passed, her palms sweaty from holding Gage and Robert’s hands tight in anticipation for their family to finally be complete. Gage’s head rested on her shoulder, her head rested on his. Robert had his leg hooked around hers, occasionally placing a kiss on her forehead and whispering “it’ll be okay” even though it most certainly would not be okay. She was about to meet her baby for the first time, even though her baby was twenty. 

What if he didn’t like them? What if he wasn’t the man she had always dreamed he would be? She had sculpted worlds in her mind, where her youngest son was a kind, humble man and had achieved amazing things. What if he wasn’t? What if?

Robert kissed the side of her head and whispered to her. “I’m nervous too.” He told her, “But it’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” She asked, gripping his hand harder. 

He smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling, as he rubbed her infinity mark. “Because he’s your son.” He whispered, resting her forehead on hers. “And even if he isn’t like you, we’ll be alright. I swore that I’d stand by your side forever. No matter what happens, we can get through this together.”

She laughed lightly, ducking down to wipe the rapidly forming tears in her eyes onto his shirt. The two giggled together for a moment before going solemn again, turning to look over at Gage, who was nervously flipping through a magazine, still wearing his casual clothes. 

“That one’s pretty good too.” Amy whispered as her husband nodded his agreement.

They watched Gage as emotions flitted through his eyes and his hands trembled with the anxiety of what was happening.

“Brock?” 

Gage snapped the magazine shut and stood up to greet one of the rookies, Clarissa. She was tiny, barely reaching up to his shoulders, but she exuded a sort of energy that suggested she was a force to be reckoned with, her herb-green eyes alight with sparks of rebellion.

“Any news?” He asked, motioning for his parents to stand up as well, which they did quickly, brushing off their clothes.

Clarissa smiled and nodded. “He wants to see you.”

Amy let out a gasp of relief and leant on Robert, a smile alight on her face. Their hands wrapped together again behind their backs as Gage spoke to Clarissa, his hands shaking as he attempted to keep his professional façade pulled against his skin like a mask.

Clarissa turned as he finished talking, looking back at them. “I’ll go get them, kay?”

Gage nodded and the small family huddled together as Clarissa disapeared into the interrogation room. They could hear muffled speaking as their hearts thudded against their ribcages, palms sweaty as they waited. The door cracked open, the voices got louder, their hearts beat faster. A few minutes passed before the two FBI agents walked through the door, followed by a small boy with brown hair and blue eyes.

Amy started to shake quietly, Robert holding her close, as the boy regarded them with fearful eyes. He was beautiful; everything they had ever hoped he could be and more. He took a cautious step forward and smiled awkwardly at them.

“Hi.” He said.

As if a dam broke, Amy began to sob and rushed forward, crouching down a little and cupping his face with her hands. Anxiousness shot through his features before they relaxed and he collapsed into her arms with a tearful “mom” on his tongue. Robert rushed to them, his mind screaming to embrace his lost son, wrapping his arms around the boy as he whispered “dad”. 

They separated after a moment so that Robert and Amy could get a good look at him. He looked so much like Gage that it was uncanny. He was their boy.

“You’re my son.” Amy whispered, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. 

His eyes were bluer than any blue she had ever seen. She loved him more than she could even describe; and in that moment she swore that she would protect him until her last breath.

He smiled and fell into her arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “You’re my mom. I-I never thought I’d have a mom.”

She rested her chin on the top of his head, more tears welling up in her eyes, wrapping her arms around him as tight as she could. He held her back, crying softly into her shoulder as Robert hugged them both from the side. They separated after a few moments, Amy wiping tears from her eyes and Robert pretending that he hadn’t been crying.

“Hi.” Cole murmured, reaching out to Gage. “You’re my brother?”

Gage nodded, no air leaving his lungs, crouching down to look at the smaller man face to face. He reached out to touch Cole’s shoulder, and as his hand connected with Cole’s shoulder, tears began to slip down the older man’s cheeks.

“Do you remember me?” Gage asked Cole, the younger’s eyes wide.

Cole hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “Gagey.” He whispered, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch Gage’s cheek.

Gage’s heart lifted up in his chest, threatening to bust out between his ribs like a cheesy old cartoon. Cole may have been young when he was taken, but his nickname had been the first word his little brother had ever spoken.

“Finally. I have a little brother to push around.” Gage smiled, ruffling Colby’s hair despite them both being adults.

Cole’s face broke out into a smile. “I always wanted a brother.”

“You’ve always had one. You just didn’t know.”

Amy and Robert, still clinging to each other, approached the two brothers from where the husband and wife had been discussing what to do next. Amy brushed Cole’s messy hair out of his eyes as he stood to meet them, a loving, maternal smile on her lips.

“Do you want to go home?” She asked him, intertwining her fingers with Robert’s. “We… walled over your old room, but we have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

“You want me to come home with you?”

The surprise on his face baffled Amy. He was their family; why would they not want him to be with them? He had been gone for so long and now that she had him back, she didn’t plan on letting him go again.

“Of course!” She assured him, “We love you. We want you to be with us.”

His surprise shifted to confusion as those words left her lips. “You love me? But you don’t know me.”

“We know you enough.” Robert told him, “Cole, you’re family. No matter what happens, we’ll always love you.”

Cole smiled minutely before speaking. “Colby.” He said, “I prefer Colby.”

“Colby.” The words felt… right on Amy’s tongue as she spoke. “It fits you. Let’s go home… Colby.”

“Okay.”

Clarissa slipped out from behind the desk and handed the family a paper to sign to signify that Colby had gone with them of his own free will and that they were willing to give him the familial and therapy care he needed. A pamphlet of business cards and such was given to the family and they loaded themselves into Robert’s truck. Colby startled as the engine roared to life, Gage rubbing his arm to calm him down, all of their hearts breaking at his fearful noise. 

He watched with rapt interest as their small hometown flashed past the windows, pointing and asking Gage about a building here and there. Small stores, restaurants, and the local theatre fascinated him. It was obvious that he had been very sheltered, and it broke their hearts even more. 

He should’ve grown up knowing damn near every inch of this town, like Gage did. He should’ve gone to the local school and worked at the shitty Dairy Queen on the corner of 5th and Tomlin or the grocery store tucked into the corner of the local church for no reason other than the property was cheap. He should’ve hung out at the park drinking bad wine coolers far past curfew with the other kids his age and dated some pretty little thing for a while before he finally met his soulmate. He should’ve eaten spaghetti and played monopoly on the kitchen floor on Saturday nights with his family like they always did. Should’ve gotten bad report cards and had to clean the gutters as punishment, with a glass of lemonade from Amy by his side because she loved him and they really didn’t care that he had gotten a B on his algebra test; they just really needed the gutters cleaned. He should’ve gone down to the old barn that the teens were all told not to go to but did anyways on weekends to stir up trouble and write his name on the towering walls in chunky graffiti lettering. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve. But he never did. Because the world was cruel and dark and miserable. Because someone out there ran a sex trafficking ring and they wanted a baby. Because by some horrible twist of fate or chance, they didn’t decide on some orphan or a homeless meth head’s accident, but a baby boy who was loved beyond words by his big brother and his mama and papa. 

Because they hadn’t locked the window that night.

Their driveway crunched under the truck’s tires as Robert pulled into their garage. Colby sat stock still in the backseat, looking with wide eyes at the garage as if it was the strangest and most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Gage opened the door for him and he stepped into the concrete box full of Robert’s tools, bicycles, kites, sports equipment, and their car with an awe that rivaled that of an infant seeing a giraffe for the first time. There was a box to side of the garage, a wizened and dented brown one with cellophane hugging its exterior, with a label placed with care on its side that said “Cole” in Amy’s looping font. Colby stared at it for a moment before looking up at Amy, who stood by the hood of the car uneasily, unsure of what to do.

“What is in this?” He asked her, motioning at the box.

Amy smiled an anxious, but still happy smile; she had both her sons after all. “The things from your nursery. Well, the important ones. Your crib and all that kinda stuff is in a storage unit at the edge of town. This one though has your stuffed animals and blankets. We haven’t opened it since we took your nursery down eighteen years ago.”

Colby looked startled as she said this. “I had a nursery?” He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

“Of course, you did.” Robert assured him from his place on the other side of the truck’s hood. “If you want, we can open it after you’ve settled in to see if you remember any of it.”

Colby nodded, holding him arms tight to himself in a hug. “Yeah. I’ve never had a stuffed animal. Do you think I could keep some of them?” There was such hope in his eyes, as if he though that they would say no and was viciously hoping they wouldn’t. 

Amy nodded. “Sure sweetie. They’re all yours after all. Do you want to come inside?”

The brunette mumbled a yes and followed his family around the car and into their foyer. The layout was much the same, with a few chairs replaced after being ripped by the family’s dogs. As the family entered, two derpy looking dogs scrambled into the foyer, tails wagging so hard that their entire bodies shook with absolute glee at seeing their family return. They circled Gage, Amy, and Robert, yipping as if they hadn’t seen them in years. 

The bigger one, a small lab, was the first to see Colby awkwardly standing to the back like he was trying to melt into the doorframe. Her sister, a strange pug type dog, noticed next, hunkering down a little in uncertainty. The lab barked in surprise at seeing someone new in her home, but her people didn’t seem alarmed. They looked like they trusted the newcomer, so she did too. Plus, he looked nice and her mama was handing him some treats for her. He knelt next to her and her sister, offering them treats, which she tentatively accepted. Her mama human barked at the newcomer, and of course the lab didn’t understand most of it, but she began wagging her tail when she heard her name.

Her mama pointed at her, saying “Foxie”, and then at her sister, saying “Cokie”. The newcomer repeated their names and did that weird thing that humans do. The one with their lips and teeth pulled up. The first time Foxie had seen one of those, she had thought that her papa was mad at her. But soon she realized it was their way to show happiness since they don’t have tails like her and Cokie and their friends at the park.

It took some crooning from the newcomer to get Cokie to come over to him, but when she did, she seemed to like it very much; rolling over to show her belly to the boy. He pulled his lips back and bared his teeth and made the closest noise to a bark that humans could. It meant he was happy. Foxie wanted to make him happy too, so she went over to see what the fuss was about. It turned out to be his smell that her sister liked so much, and Foxie decided she liked it too. He smelled like family so she decided that he was. This boy was part of her pack now and she loved him easily. He belonged.

Colby laughed softly as the dogs rubbed against him, licking his face and huffing softly. He looked up at his… mom, he supposed, and she smiled. He thought he could see tears in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt panic surge up like a tidal wave in his chest, but he squelched it down with the mantra “I'm okay, I’m okay, I’m okay”. This wasn’t the Barracks. He wasn’t with Papa anymore and he didn’t need to be afraid. These people said they loved him and he felt almost okay with them. He was safe.

The dogs danced around his ankles as he stood and let Gage show him around a home that he knew he should recognize, but didn’t really. There was a fuzzy memory at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t seem to grasp ahold of it. The memory flittered around in the depths of his brain like a bug stuck in a car, thudding against the edges of his conscious, thumping right past his fingers as he numbly grabbed for it.  
There was a white patch on one of the walls, crudely placed to cover something. He studied it, walking closer before reeling back as a feeling of pure foreboding and panic flooded through him like tsunami. 

Men? Darkness? Crying? Cold? Hands all over? Where? Scared? Pain? Fear? Why? Why? Shaking? Unfamiliar? Where? Where? Where is he? There’s a window in his mind and it’s open wide. It shouldn’t be open. Why is it open? Why is he so cold? There are unfamiliar hands on him and his skin feels violated, shaking him to his very core. He doesn’t understand. He’d speak but he doesn’t know how. Eyes are burning into him. He doesn’t recognize them and he’s scared. So numb that he can’t breathe. He’s so young. So young. Tears stream down his face. He’s barely been here a year and he just doesn’t understand. He sobs so hard his ribs hurt and he feels like his skull is caving in onto itself. He hears his name calling out from beyond and he wants run but he’s frozen in place. He’s so so trapped and he’s being shaken shaken shaken. Someone’s asking him what’s wrong, someone’s calling out and then he realizes where he is; knelt with his hands on the poorly laid drywall, trembling, his mother on her knees too, holding his face in her hands, mascara running down her face in thick rivets.

“Baby please what’s wrong?” She pleaded, “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do!”

His mind caves in on itself as he lets out a raw sob, not feeling any pain as his fist sinks into the drywall. He didn’t even know he had done it as he collapsed into his mother’s arms, sobbing out an all too broken sob. He vaguely sees Gage sitting against the wall next to him, head in his hands, shoulders heaving softly, and he feels his father sit beside them all, rubbing circles into the spot between his tense shoulder blades. 

They sat there for who knows how long, all four of them afraid to say a single word, before the sound of Gage getting up from his spot beside them registered in Colby’s ears. The young man peeled himself away from his mother, rubbing drying tears off of his cheeks as Gage rummaged through a cabinet under the kitchen sink nearby.

“Gage?” Robert called out, craning his neck to see what his son was doing. “What-?”

He was cut off by the sound of metal thumping against tile floors, dragging against it as Gage made his way back through the living room and towards the wall, a mallet the size of his arm hanging from his fingers.

“Move.” He grunted, tear tracks etched into his skin obvious under the lighting where they sat.

Colby scrambled backwards, not afraid but not at ease, blunt nails digging into his mom’s wrist as he drug her along with him. “Wha-what are you doing?”

Gage’s eyes were dark. “Wasn’t even a year before we patched this shit up. This right here-” He gestured at the patched over space on the wall with a wild swing of the mallet. “-used to be your nursery. We just patched it over and wrote a book about it instead of actually facing the fact that our fucking family was broken! We helped everyone but ourselves. And now you’re back. And I’m done. My little brother was kidnapped and sold into slavery and I don’t even go to therapy. What the absolute fuck is wrong with this family?”

Drywall cracked and paint flaked as the mallet sunk into the wall again and again. Dust clouded the room and Gage burst through the wall, rubble littering the carpet at his feet. He turned towards Colby, cowering against their mother like a stray cat. 

“I’m done hiding. We’re a fucking shit show. But we can’t hide our heads in the sand anymore.” He whispered, holding his hand out in invitation. “So let’s be a clusterfuck together."

There was silence. Gage smiled.

"Welcome home little brother.” 

Colby took his hand and stood up. 

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! 
> 
> That was horrible. Thanks for reading though. 
> 
> I don't have much access to electronics, so I'll update when I can. 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed. 
> 
> Bye now,  
> Nimm


End file.
